Critical Studies













Eugene E, Grissom



Digitized by the Internet Archive

2011 with funding from


IVIembers and Sloan Foundation


The Mirror of Art

Charles Baudelaire

Translated and Edited With Notes and Illustrations

By Jonathan Mayne


Charles Baudelaire was
in Paris,


in Paris in 1821.



ceiving his degree in 1839 from the College Louis-le-Grand

he began

his sensational literary career. After a

characterized by poverty, excesses, and controversy, he
attracted public attention with

died in 1867.

two of on ait— The Salon of 1845 and The Salon of 1846. He wrote only one book of poetry, the famous Fleurs du mal (1857), whose successive revisions

his earliest writings

occupied him throughout
of such works of



his Hfe. He was also the translator Edgar AUan Poe as Histoires extraorand Histoires grotesques et serieuses


Though The Mirror

of Art




invented by Bau-

is composed of excerpts from two collections of Baudelaire's art criticism which were not compiled imtil after his death. These are Curiosites esthetiques (1868) and VArt romantique (1869).

delaire himself, the book,

published in 1955,

F«N£ AI?T8


Cover design by Leonard Baskin Typography by Edward Corey
Printed in the United States
All rights reserved


Note and Acknowledgements


Editor's Introduction


Bibliographical Note


THE SALON OF 1845 A few words of introduction—History-paintings— Portraits— Genre-paintings—Landscapes—Drawings,
Engravings— Sculpture



THE SALON OF 1846 To the bourgeois—What


the good of criticism?—


croix— On erotic subjects in



Romanticism?—On colour—Eugene Delaart, and on M. Tassaert— On some colourists— On the ideal and the model— Some draughtsmen— On portraiture—The *chic' and the poncif'— M. Horace Vemet—On eclecticism and doubt— On M. Ary Scheffer and the apes of sentiment— On some doubters—On landscape—Why sculpture is tiresome— On schools and journeymen



S —On the heroism







THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE, 1855 Critical method—Ingres—Eugene Delacroix




The modern artist—The modern public and photography—The queen of the faculties—The governance of the imagination— Religion, history, fantasy —Portraiture-Landscape— Sculpture—Envoi

VI CONTENTS 306 339 THE LIFE AND WORK OF EUGENE DELACROIX Appendix: Translations of verse in the text Notes on the Illustrations Index 343 363 .

I Where In the case of titles of obscure or unidentified pictures. or by indicating where reproductions of them can be seen. Y. both edited by the late Jacques Cr^pet Reference has also been made to the Pleiade edition of the Oeuvres completes (1951).B/ are Baudelaire's own. edited by M. My guiding motive has been the avoidance of possible misidentification. 1 have generally left them in French. it is the EngHsh form that I have given.EDITOR'S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS the Conrad and L'Art romatitique (1925). of which so many are mentioned in the course of Baudelaire's Salons. have found absolute consistency pictures. greatest personal debts are owed to Miss Margaret Oilman. whose Baudelaire the Critic has been an invaluable aid and whose kindness a constant My encouragement. le Dantec. who has been most patient and helpful with advice. except in a few instances where the point of a criticism depends upon the literal understanding of a title. and to Mr Felix Leakey. In the matter of translating. titles of pictures. such as Dante et Virgile or La Mort de Sardanapale. and to the late Andr6 Ferran's fully-annotated edition of the Salon de 1845 (Toulouse 1933). To some of these I have added a further note after the initials. To these editions I The present translation has been made from editions of Curiosites esthetiques (1923) am indebted for much of the material contained in those which are preceded by a numerical reference. In certain cases. of Glasgow University. are well known under their English titles. or not translating. included between an asterisk and the initials 'C. I have identified as many as I have been able—though by no means as many as I should have Hked—either by giving their present whereabouts. Of the works of art mentioned in the text. Among those others who have assisted me in a variety of . of Bryn Mawr College. All footnotes. or parts of footnotes. where neither reproduction nor whereabouts were knov^ni to me. I have referred to footnotes standard catalogues raisonnes of the works of the artists concerned.-G. the impossible to secure.

Armand Godoy. Mr Graham Reynolds. M. Ferment. Jean Adhemar. Paris.Vm EDITOR ways. Brussels. A. Amsterdam. of the Frick Collection. of the Cheltenham Art Gal- M. London. Veinstein. and the Frick Collection. Montpellier. J. My thanks are also due Galleries of art in their to the authorities of the following Museums and who have kindly granted permission for works care to be reproduced here: the Victoria and Albert Mu- seum. of the Musee Conde. Mrs Dora Lykiardopulo. of the Victoria and Albert Museum. Mr Peter Quennell. Rouen. Mr Asa Lingard.. of the BibHotheque de I'Arsenal. Mr Peter Mayne. Mr H. Nimes. the Musee Ingres. Montauban. Mr Bryan Robertson. Mr Denys Sutton.M. Mr O'Hana. Mrs F. the Museum Fine Arts. of the Smithsonian Institution. I and wish to dedicate this edition to the memory of my friend Hallam Fordham. of the Victoria and Albert Museum. Toulouse Versailles. Washington. Claude Chantilly. the MetropoHtan Museum. of the Bibliotheque Nationale. Boston. lery. and S NOTE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I whom should like to take this opportunity of thanking once again. Mather. ChantiUy. the Musee Conde. Mrs Marie-Louise Hemphill. Claude Pichois. Paris. and M. are: M.Jones. the Museums at Autun. M. Bordeaux. the Musee Fabre. Miss Bemice Davidson. New York. Fletcher. Mr Gordon Crocker. Nantes. the Musee d'Art Modeme. Mr John Beckwith. G. the Tate Gallery and the Wallace Collection. Saint-L6. J. Jr. M. Lille. Bourg-en-Bresse. . M. de Broglie. Philippe Roberts. the Musee du Louvre. Miss Helen Darbishire. the Fodor Museum. Metz. Lyon.

and the egregious Robert Buchanan anathematized him some ten years later as the accursed begetter of the 'Fleshly School of Poetry'. It is therefore only the more remarkable that his works of criticism—and particularly his art-criticism.EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION It is probably true to say that tbe name Baudelaire has more suggestive power covered' for the average EngHsh reader than Ever since Swinburne 'dishim to us in the 1860s. The present It selection. no book in English. includes all three of Baudelaire's Salons. he has that of any other French poet. accompanying articles on French and Foreign Cariand finally the great obituary panegyric on Dela- Peintre de la vie The well-known essay on Constantin Guys—Le moderne—has been regretfully omitted and on the grounds that it alone of been translated. A considerable literature has grown up around him in English. not for reasons of space. But in England and America at least it is only during the last generation or so that he has achieved his unquestioned status as one of the great archetypal figures—if not the greatest—in the moral and Kterary history of the nineteenth century. so far as I know. croix. ranging from biographical and interpretative studies to a whole shelf of translation of his poems and a volume or two of extracts from his prose-writings. and I think that it would be fair to add that few professional art-writers. therefore. with its caturists. the articles on the Exposition Universelle of 1855. should need no apology. With the exception of Miss Margaret Gilmans excellent Baudelaire the Critic. has been exclusively devoted to this subject. even. Baudelaire's art-critical studies has . had his more or less violent partisans and enemies. the essay on Laughter. have given much evidence of having studied and profited by the works of one art-criticism' who and has been called 'the father of modem *le premier estheticien de son age'. which is generally held to be his finest achievement in that field— should have remained largely unavailable to EngHsh readers.

e. its he was quick to reject a cold. he added. and other essays by Charles Baudelaire (London 1950). G. *the best account of a picture may well be a sonnet or an elegy —a type of 'criticism' of which we find several exampartial. he wrote there. mathematical. Konody. 'All great poets naturally and fatally become critics'. with a substantial appendix of reproductions of paintings and prints discussed in the text. And perhaps not the least rewarding approach to his is art-critcism to regard as a kind of lifelong glorification of this chosen cult. These include a number that have never before been reproduced. and by Norman Cameron. but twice during the is and therefore I hope not overpresump- tuous. . to when they feel the need to reason about their discover the obscure laws in virtue of which they have created. mon unique. it is best to turn to a long article which he wrote some fifteen years later in defence of Wagner. in My Heart Laid Bare. 'I pity those poets who are guided by instinct alone: I regard them as incomplete. But in the spiritual life of the former [i.' he went on to say. the great poets] a crisis inevitably occurs art. To find the simplest and most revealing exposition of Baudelaire's critical attitude. wrote Baudelaire in a famous passage of his autobiographical commonplace-book. including French. ma primitive passion)'. It would be unthinkable for a ^By P. and one at least— Haussoullier's Fontaine de jouvence—which has long been believed to be lost *Glorifier le culte des images {una grande. in The Painter of Victorian Life (London 1930). and to extract from this study a set of precepts whose divine aim is infallibility in poetic creation. S INTRODUCTION last twenty-five years. Early in his Salon of inserted a brief manifesto of in this 1846 Baudelaire what he meant by criticism. passionate ples among the Fleurs du mal. to add that this is the first edition of these writings to be published in any language. ^ It once only. heartless type of criticism. 'amusing and poetic'.X EDITOR certainly relevant. of course. 'Thus. But this. and to require in place a criticism which should be and political'— and. is not all. it Mon coeur mis a nu.

Therefore the reader will not to at be surprised critics/ my regarding the poet as the best of is. or pseudo-scientific. ']e resolus de rninformer du paurquoi. although of serving if only because it provides a kind of preliminary sketch— an ebauche. whatever his man who both feels and analyses and the movement of his critical thought will be powered by the same central force which is also behind his creation. For Baudelaire. is far from being the same thing as the cold. The critic starting-point nearly always volupte— the shock of pleasure experienced in front of a work of art. with which this volume opens. Earlier in the same article he had written. it contains his earliest tribute to the genius of Dela- whose art and ideas were to inform and interpenetrate . is at the very core of Baudelaire's critical is method. Nevertheless it would certainly be worth preadmittedly imperfect work. analysis. textbook knowledge which he had long ago rejected as a critical instrument. it is far more likely to take the form of a sonnet than an algebraic equation— a witty and suggestive interpretation than a piece of scientific. In later years he became dissatisfied with this early and we have the authority Theodore de Banville that it made a striking effect on publication. and it is impossible for a poet not contain within him a critic. as we have seen. the distinction between criticism and creation in this way breaks down. Further- more croix. medium—is observed. Knowledge gained in this way. et de transformer ma volupte en connaissance'. and. Baudelaire made his literary d^but with a work of art- criticism—the Salon of 1845. so to speak—for many of the critical attitudes that he was later to adopt and develop. as several writers have already thus a double his feelings. it is a knowledge charged and quickened by the pleasure which has logically preceded it.EDITOR critic S INTRODUCTION XI to become a poet. all The poet— that the creative artist. they turn out to be merely different aspects of the same process. however. the poet- then proceeds to examine and analyse the pourquoi— the why and the wherefore—until finally he is able to transform the initial shock of pleasure into knowledge— the volupte into connaissance. and this.

. classic shibboleth of 'the Ideal' is given an honoured and important place in this renovated vocabulary of art. give a real and positive meaning to this word'. naivete. and by the time that we are presented with the first artist (again Delacroix). fresh and surprising. indeed. that we find the first of the great Baudelairean key-words. The Salon of 1845 is set out in a when it touches on general topics. for example.XU SO EDITOR S INTRODUCTION subject much of what he was to write in the future on the of art. however. spirituality. in an essential sense. Individualism. could we have a better example of Baudelaire's extraordinary gift for taking already-existing concepts and reanimating them so that they are still recognizable. 'I am not claiming that there are as many fundagive his definition. aspiration towards the infinite. . Romanticism. own mental ideals as there are individuals. and each with in his place. The Salon of 1846. in a few short sentences. showing us the various ways in which the idea of Romanticism has been misunderstood and perthen. Nowhere. 'Few people today will want to Pictures are arranged neatly within their genres. and in the further 'generaF chapters and observations with which this Salon is interspersed. Or naivete: 'By the naivete of the genius'. the Ideal—all of them are paraded before the reader and redefined in a new. we are told. but with knowledge modestly surrendering the leading role to temperament. for a mould gives . and it does so en passant. but. is composed with great originality and brilliance. colour. after And verted. to 'Romanticism is precisely situated neither in choice of subject nor in exact truth. exact and highly personal fashion. 'you must imderstand a complete knowledge of technique combined with the Know thyself! of the Greeks. To say the word Romanticism is to say modem art—that is.' Even the old-fashioned. artist is dealt conventional way. Take Romanticism. he writes. It begins with a series of chapters on fundamental aesthetic questions. themselves defining key-positions in his critical strategy. Baudelaire proceeds. It is in this general introduction. intimacy. a whole critical background has been adumbrated. expressed by every means available to the arts'. with a paragraph or a series of paragraphs to himself.

which resulted from the changing modes of feeling characteristic of different ages. Classical permanence and an intimate. by his indomitable adherence to classical values of order and artistic purity amid the turbulence of his Romantic imagi- make nation. it will be apparent that Baudelaire was by no means setting out to a sudden and shocking breach with the past. Romantic contingency—and this is only one of the striking parallek between Baudelaire and Delacroix as creative and critical artists. the true painter of the age.EDITOR as S INTRODUCTION is XUl several impressions: but in the painter's soul there are just many From ideals as individuals. he showed no great originality. this was not because his views were the views of a self-conscious enfant terrible. which was common to all. he foimd it necessary (as he did) to denounce certain fashionable heresies by which. In this. its own Beauty. the idea was already impHcit in Stendhal. and if. was. artistic pinitanism. and doubtless in other theorists too (for the successful tracing back of individual aspects of Baudelaire's thought to former authors has of recent reveals . It has often been observed of Baudelaire's poetry that it an extraordinary fusion of a lapidary. and the transitory. Baudelaire analysed these various and varying manifestations of Beauty into two separate elements—the eternal. Hence his lifelong devotion to Delacroix who. when *wit' and 'anecdote' and 'erudition' were already beginning to flourish on the soil left vacant by *history'— and his deeply serious aim was to attempt to call back the visual arts to what he held to be their proper functions. the integrity of art was endangered. when the *great tradition' had got lost. What he was doing was to take a series of dead or dying concepts and to breathe a new life into them. in the process. and must possess. Both believed that every nation and every age possessed. He was Hving at a time when artistic anarchy and its natural counterpart. it may be argued. in Baudelaire's view. because a portrait artist' a model complicated hy an this necessarily brief r^sum^ of a few of the leading ideas to be encountered in the Salon of 1846. and the new tradition had not yet been discovered. were both rampant. in his opinion.

of some nine years later. But Imagination ties'. as is by his friends. (If a Hterary parentage for Baudelaire's Imagination is required. Baudelaire comes very close to the doctrine of the creative imagination as developed by Coleridge in the Biographia Literaria. And if we remember that. he was asserting something both new and significant. is seemingly paradoxical statement Baudelaire meant that the Imagination alone is. It is an all-informing faculty. But it is not until the Salon of 1859 that Baudelaire's idea of the imagination finds its full statement. It is to some extent linked to his doctrine of 'correspondences' (which is also first mentioned by name in the Exposition Universelle articles). it is essentially creative— and here. the all its implications in order to appreciate the real value of the idea. in a mechanically progressive age. it will only make his undertanding of the central aesthetic problem by so much the more prophetic of our own. but it is not necessary to accept that esoteric doctrine in Baudelaire's key-words. we need look no further than Poe—although it is now readily admitted even fashionable to deplore his influence— and Poe. by its nature. which makes a brief but telling debut in the course of an analysis of the fundamental defects of Ingres. But and asserting that without the co- existence of both elements there could be no Beauty at all. Baudelaire had the deepest possible contempt for material 'progress'. Furthermore. as Miss Gilman has pointed out. that we first encounter the concept which may be said to epitomize and develop to their logical conclusion all those that we have already considered This is the concept of the 'imagination'. owed much to the also the 'most scientific of the facul- ideas of Coleridge. As with all of word 'imagination' has a very special meaning attached to it. It is in the articles on the Exposition Universelle.) XIV EDITOR S INTRODUCTION years in going a step further become a minor industry of literary scholarship). capable of penetrating beneath the surface of appearances and of this By . This was but another way of saying that the 'ideal' had now become a relative concept. which must be allowed to dominate and to order aU the others. though it is in a high degree doubtful that he was aware of this relationship.

It is through the Imagination. spirituality and the rest. this was had scarcely touched . the natural with the supernatural and the moral with the metaphysical. and feeHng (as we know so well from his poetry that he felt) that modem life was presenting a challenge and an obhgation to the creative artist which few of his contemporaries seemed willing to meet. and even though Baudelaire claimed to find a contemporary. Baudelaire is nevertheless careful to insist that the Imagination must have at its service a refined sensibihty and a practised technical equipment. all that he was in other essentials the 'painter modem fife. and different levels of existence. sickly type of beauty in his women (somewhat to tiie constemation of Delacroix himself. for example. which we have not yet touched on. although it runs through all of Baudelaire's art-criticism. as in the case of Corot. S INTRODUCTION XV manmodes of perception. in fact. is that capital faculty of the creative artist whereby he is enabled to see all in one synoptic glance. indeed. He is. however. Starting with his definition of Romanticism as intimacy. This was an appeal for a painter who could interpret tiie age to itself. There is one idea of fundamental importance.EDITOR ifestations. he does not always agree that criticism on this score has been correctly appHed). The Imagination. This is the idea of the 'Heroism of Modem Life'. and may be said to emerge naturally from his doctrine of the Imagination and of Beauty. from the very first Salon to the essay on Guys of almost twenty years later. Delacroix. it must be admitted). but he is. more contemptuous of a purely manual dexundirected by Imagination or the 'SouF—witness his criticism of Troyon. even terity. for of the age'. in short. with a complete imaginative grasp of its occasional and paradoxical acts of a protesting heroism amid a setting of moral and spiritual desolation. if any- thing. and thus to order his work in detecting hidden analogies between different material different such a way that the topical shall co-exist with the eternal. that 'ideal' the universal correspondences are discerned and the brought to Hght. which he took up again and developed in the following year. scornful of technical ineptitude (though. Baudelaire concluded his Salon of 1845 with an impassioned appeal.

nature'. and Original Sin. and in spite of a personal friendship with Courbet himself which lasted is often supposed—Baudelaire. had already made it clear that Baudelaire based context. For our present purpose. the sworn antihad early declared his enmity for the realist ideal. To reduce it to its fundamental statement. When. but the modest. but never. it modem terpieces. the time came. it is generally conceded that the Peintre de la vie modeme is one of his prose masHfe'. Another article possibility might have been Damnier. not included here. realist art). but this would be with to forget that Baudelaire. On the Essence of Laughter. we may perhaps confine ourselves to a single one of the ideas of which it is composed— a crucial idea. in fact. it was none of these. morbidly self- whom he conscious Constantin his painter of Guys in whom Baudelaire discovered was around this deHghtfully gifted but essentially minor artist that he built his fullydeveloped theory of the relationship of art to modern Hfe.XVI EDITOR S INTRODUCTION hardly enough to qualify him as the almost Messianic genius whom Baudelaire was crying in the wilderness. Whether or not we agree that Baudelaire was justified in glorifying Guys to this extent. save on one occasionin an article. Coiurbet might perhaps suggest himself to us as a possible candidate. however. but in the . ibis was a passionately-held belief in the Fall of Man. after a brief flirtation socialist ideas (and thus with the possibility of a popular. hence his somewhat curious coupling of the names of Ingres and Courbet. not only in its whole fabric of Baudelaire's aesthetic and metaphysical opinion. nevertheless. The essay. both of whom he regarded as having sacrificed the imaginative faculty on the altars of other gods— the great tradition' and 'external longer than materiahst. ReaHsm (associated by him with Positivism) was for Baudelaire a flat negation of the Imagination— it was httle less than a blasphemy. praised publicly. for whom Baudelaire expressed a wholehearted admiration in his on the French caricaturists. or the young Manet. respectively. however. admired in private (if with certain reservations). in which he joined the name of Manet with that of Alphonse Legros (to the shocked surprise of posterity).

the external world and the artist himself.EDITOR his it S INTRODUCTION XVU whole theory of the Comic on this idea. It is very nearly true to say that Baudelaire's published criticism begins and ends with the name of Delacroix. by striving after an ideal virtue or beauty. For it is precisely this contempt (and also perhaps this fear) of Nature that ex- plains Baudelaire's impatience with all current naturahstic trends—for the landscapes of the Barbizon painters no less than the reahsm of Courbet. imaginative) effort. was to Baudelaire an even greater artistic heresy than was the idea of adding something extraneous ('style'. the glorification of the Dandy and the 'eloge du maquillage' in the Peintre de la vie moderne. or the imagination of the poet—was the only man should concern himself. rather—of thing with which two separate entities. 'What is purt art. and I think that would be possible to maintain that in the final analysis his whole aesthetic was similarly foimded. and hence. L'Art philosophique. the make-up of the courtesan. and it is certain that the idea of Dela- magic containing . individual ideal—whether expressed by the detachment of the Dandy. Transferred to the criticism of the arts in the mid-nineteenth century. It at is to create a suggestive one and the same time the object and the subject. In the sphere of art the realization of this ideal would always be the result of a collaboration— a sort of fusion. several examples of his practical sympathies and antipathies have already been touched on. Good—whether in art or morahty— can only be achieved by conscious (and. as extreme statements. He remained consistent from first to last in his belief that the immanent. The idea of copying nature. Hence the moving aphorisms of personal morality in Mon cceur mis a nu. As has often been pointed out. but senseless and undirected impulses of Nature. which was at that time more than usually in the air.' In the course of the preceding sketch of Baudelaire's general attitude towards the problems of art. the doctrine has a corollary of the greatest importance. and constantly battling against the powerful. for example) to nature. according to the modern conception?'. asks Baudelaire in an unfinished article. one might add. Delacroix was from first to last his touchstone of greatness— the Turner to his Ruskin.

But though such practical mitted to have some force. They are shocked at his severe criticisms of Ingres and Courbet. 'Baudelaire et Manet' in Les Temps modernes. and his damaging dislike of MiUet. for example. Other critics of his time—the serious and business-like for laire Thor^.XVUl EDITOR S INTRODUCTION croix can almost always be felt hovering in the background through the intervening pages. Other critical attitudes than his behef in a and re-stated Romanticism may now seem to have been more in the mainstream of the theory of art as it has since developed. But it is necessary first of all to view this kind of criticism in its historical context—to see it as a reaction from a modem devotion to Baudelaire no less fervent than was his own devotion to Delacroix. it must at once be owned by anyone who has taken the trouble to read what he wrote that this conventional behef is not founded strictly on fact. it is criticisms must indeed be ad- it is legitimate to ask whether not perhaps a Httle cmde to attempt to place a critic such as Baudelaire— or any critic.2 for example. It has some time indeed been conventional to hold that Baudewas the only art-critic of the nineteenth century who never made mistakes. Some modem critics have indeed come to reproach Baudelaire for this special and all-absorbing devotion. Philippe Rebeyrol. or even a gifted progressive like fleury—may be instanced as purified Champof more accurate prophets the dawn. as stated by M. and finally he is rebuked for omitting to 'discover' Manet at a time when he was in a position to do so. who is ^ See liis article. Oct. Such is the case against him. and instead for lavishing praise on a host of minor painters who are now almost entirely forgotten—and in most cases deservedly so. and if by the phrase 'never made mistakes' we mean that he exactly anticipated the verdicts of posterity in all his judgements. . on the grounds that it blinded him to those progressive trends in contemporary painting which were already leading in the direction of Impressionism and thus of Modem Art as we now know it. for that matter. they note his fundamentally imperfect sympathy for Rousseau. 1949.

Just as his Romanticism transcends the historical reality of that movement (T. even though he may then have proceeded to enquire why it was not greater or more important still. so behef in the purity or in- tegrity of art transcends the concept of 'Art for Art's sake'. When we call Baudelaire the gaze. when those hits and misses are themselves not so much verifiable facts as elements in a constantly changing complex of opinion. Rebeyrol's carefuUy-arranged texts. to perceive the 'admirable. in a greater or a lesser degree. EHot once called him a his 'counter- Romantic'. he seldom failed to discern greatness. and inevitable relationship between form and funcand to apprehend the delicate distinction between anarchy and autonomy in an artist of genius. or music) exists in its own right. It is necessary at once to state that we do not read Baudelaire in order to dazzle ourselves with the shafts of his prophetic perhaps allow ourselves to hazard the he did look forward to a future art. 'father of his age' modem art-criticism' or the 'first aesthetician of we are referring not to his anticipation of any one of our particular judgements and fashionable first cults.EDITOR card of Tiits' S INTRODUCTION and particularly XIX also a creative artist—in accordance with a simple score- and 'misses'. we may even if guess that. to that of Beardsley rather than of Toulouse-Lautrec. to a spectator who is con- . S. Even his strictures on artists with whom he was naturally out of sympathy are more often than not conceived in such a way as to throw hght on virtues no less than on vices. or archaeology). we are thinking of his whole approach to the art of art-criticism. in this context. it may well have been to that of Gustave Moreau rather than of Renoir or Cezanne. any such possible shortcomings are fundamentally insignificant. But against the enormous positive importance of his work. But it is above all to Baudelaire's passionately-held belief in the purity of art that we find ourselves returning. For Baudelaire was perhaps the ous fallacy of a 'party-Hne' in eternal tion' to detect the danger- art. perhaps 'post-Romantic' might be even more appropriate). Painting (or poetry. where it existed. or even 'importance'. even though in certain conditions it may appeal. it has nothing to do with politics (or philosophy. and in spite of M.

Although Baudelaire had for long intended to assemble and re-print his art-critical writings in one or more volumes. the articles on the Exposition Universelle. The title. to be found nowhere else but in the 'soul' of the artist. The following year there appeared. The Mirror of Art. Baudelaire's criticism would remain a landmark in the development of our understanding of the cal operation' arts. containing all three Salons. the brilliance of description and the underlying humanity— and the is a critic with whom we may on occasions disagree. the Laughter and Caricature articles. and two other shorter art-critical studies. being composed for the greater part of elements from Curiosites esthetiques. but one whom we cannot forget once we have read him. Other titles. result the wit. and which has its own principles of life. Add to it all those other qualities—the poetic insight. and a shorter piece entitled Le Musee classique du Bazar Bonne-nouvelle (not included here) This was followed in 1869 by L'Art roman^ tique (a title. The present book is therefore neither one nor the other. Le Miroir de VArt has seemed by far the most appropri. this aim was not in fact accomplished until after his death (in 1867). A final . but with one important extract from VArt romantique. note on the title and composition of this book. the remainder of the volume was devoted to articles of literary and other criticism. 'Painting an evocation. has been chosen because it was invented (but not used) by Baudelaire himself when he was meditating the publication of the book that was finally issued as Curiosites esthetiques. a magi- which makes its effect by means of a fusion of colour and line. it seems. but of the various available possibilities. of the editors' own choosing) which contained the articles on Delacroix and Guys. the volume entitled Curiosites esthetiques.XX EDITOR S INTRODUCTION is cemed with these things. If it were for nothing more than the constant re-affirmation of this point of view. such as Bric-d-hrac esthetique and Le Cabinet esthetique were also discussed. under the editorship of Charles Asselineau and Theodore de Banville.

EDITOR ate—not into petards'. seems to sum up his attitude and express his intentions with the maximimi of authenticity. The Mirror of Art. and in default of anything more mysterious or explosive. least S INTRODUCTION titres XXI because it alone can be happily transformed English. yahne les mysterieux et les titres wrote Baudelaire to his publisher Poulet-Malassis. Jonathan Mayne . suggesting as it does Baudelaire's conviction that art-criticism should be the reflection of a work of art in the mind of a critic.

(in the series peintre-graveur 10 volumes. Journal universel New lllustr. L'Oeuvre complet d'Eugdne Delacroix. Baudelaire the York. 1943 L'lllustration. 1926-9 Critic. London. Robaut Alfred Robaut. Honor e Daumier illustre'). The Paintings of J. Delteil. 1954 . Gilman Margaret Oilman.ABBREVIATIONS USED IN THE FOOTNOTES Delteil Loys 'Le Paris. Paris. 1925-30 Escholier. London. 1885 Wildenstein Georges Wildenstein. Escholier Raymond Paris.A. Journal The Journal 1951 of Eugdne Delacroix. Ingres. 3 volmnes.D. Delacroix.

For a detailed examination of the art-criticism of the period 1848-70. Sloane's French Painting between the Past and the contains a Present (Princeton 1951)..BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE Margaret Gilman's Baudelaire the Critic (New York 1943) list of works on Baudelaire's criticism. see Joseph C. To this may be added Nino Barbantini's important article *Baudelaire Critico d'Arte' in his Scritti d'Arte (Venice 1953). Paris 1882-5). . The most convenient source Bellier of information concernartists is ing the Salon-exhibits of 19th century French de la Chavignerie's Dictionnaire general des artistes de I'ecole frangaise (2 vols. Martin TumeU's Baudelaire (London 1953) contains a good general bibliography.


^The Gustave Blanche (1808-57). that no newspaper would dare print what we have to say. Gustave Planche. which is sometimes silly. Omissions are indicated where they occur. who for some years now have been striving their designation. 9th April. if only those gentlemen knew how to make it understandable exhibition opened on 15th March at the Musee Royal (Louvre). the Hes and the shameless favouritisms of newspaper criticism. had been absent in Italy for the * few years. but who has always managed to preserve his integrity. with reference to that impertinent we beg to state that we in no way share the prejudices of our great confreres in the world of art. Delecluze.b. *Let us record a fine and honourable exception in M. utmost to cast anathema upon that inoffensive being whom nothing would please better than to love good painting. Ever since the days of M.THE SALON OF 18451 A FEW WORDS OF INTRODUCTION at least as We can claim with known writer claims much accuracy as a well- of his little books. (c. on the contrary. but never independent. Although it was oflBcially recorded as published on 24th May. has often been responsible for bringing new and unknown talents to light. then? By no means. Baudelaire himself wrote to his mother that it was appearing on his birthday. sometimes violent. We have no friends—that is a great thing— and no enemies. and.) last . whose opinions we do not always share. who had written regularly for the Revue des Deux-Mondes. The present translation of this Sdon is somewhat abridged. we are going to be impartial. Are we going to be very cruel and abusive. 'the bourgeois'. Baudelaire's review appeared in the form of a booklet.* the bourgeois with a disgust for those useful handbooks which go by the name And at the very outset. without roaring or ranting. have inspired of Salon-reviews.^ a rough diamond whose learned and commanding eloquence is now silent to the great regret of all right-thinking minds.

the extension to the Galerie Fran- .) dissatisfaction.b.e.^ which we owe to the enlightened and Hberally paternal mind of a king to whom both public and artists owe also the enjoyment of six museums. . for one fact. complaints are perhaps justified. ** The Galerie des Dessim. the ranks of the artists themselves contain so many bourgeois that it is better. should be expunged from the dictionary of criticism. and of the manner and frequency of exhibitions. In recent years there had never been less than two years between each. of the reform of the jury. (c. 1831). the works of new exhibitors only were subject to the jury. in 1831 new rules were formed according to which aU were so subject. selection-committees. because they have become systematic. In the second place. but they count as nagging. which we are told has become necessary. * It was not until 1833 that the Salon became an annual event. to suppress a word which does not it is define any particular vice of caste. in relation to the art-critics. THE SALON OF 1845 him and if to the artists themselves showed it him more often. . 1817. That word.2. 1819.* it is with the same orderliness. 1827. seeing that equally applicable to those it. etc. and often more (viz. about which there was much current Under the Empire and the Restoration. It is vdth the same contempt for all systematic nagging and opposition— opposition and nagging which have become banal and commonplace. in exist—is a very respectable personage.** a fair-minded man will always see that the . the same love of good sense. The iDOurgeois' ceased to exist the moment he himself adopted the word as a term of abuse— which only goes to prove his sincere desire to become artistic. on the whole. 1822. the bourgeois— since he does. must please those at whose expense one means to live. a jury is necessary— so much is clear. that we are banishing far from this little booklet all discussion both of juries^ in general and of the paintings-jury in particular. and as for the annual recurrence of the exhibition. *The ^ i. 1824. First of all. who ask no more than that they should cease to incur as to those who have never suspected that they deserved it. And finally. which smells of studio-cant from a mile off.

Delacroix is decidedly the most original times. as we do. the eye of our professional conscience Everything that pleases has a reason artists. not even the MusSe Espagnol. painter of ancient or of modem That is how things and what is the good of protesting? But none of M. and that the mediocre artist will only find his deserved punishment therein. M. Those fair days are past. and slowly sweep away each obstacle to the grave. and a rallyingsymbol for every kind of opposition. has dared to state this simply.b. considering his natural productiveness. We shall speak about everything that attracts the crowd and of the obliges us to for pleasing. the Versailles. most enthusiastic of them. The MusSe Standish consisted of worics bequeathed by Lord Standish to gaise. Delacroix will always le- Delacroix's friends. whether intelligent or not.HISTORY-PAINTINGS great artist cannot fail to gain 3 by it.). 8th May 1845 HISTORY-PAINTINGS Delacroix— M. The Musie Espagnol comprised Spanish pictures belonging to the Orleans family. which blunt the edge of spite and shock and ill-will. the MusSe Standish. the Musie de and the MttsSe de Marine (c. The first two and the last two of these exist today. do so. are. bluntly and impudently. Thanks to the tardy justice of the years. we are no longer living at a time when the name of Delacroix was a signal for the reactionaries to cross themselves. Our method of address will consist simply in dividing our work into categories—History-paintings and Portraits— Genre-paintings and Landscape— Sculpture—Engravings and Drawings. and to scorn the throngs of those that have gone astray is no way to bring them back to where they ought to be. and in arranging the artists in accordance with the rank and order which the estimation of the public has assigned to them. King Louis-Philippe. .

but of a perfect harmony. was rejected by the Robaut 921. M. jury. but morally he belongs to it. This year 1. he tere friends presenting the young Commodus— a yoimg. sublime and misunderstood pic- In fact Delacroix had already sought election to the Institut in 1837. its general effect is almost grey. for he has not betrayed us. Delacroix stronger than ever. Such is the tremendous feat of strength demanded of a genius who is ceaselessly in search of the new. her hair dishevelled. Now in the Lyons Museum. A half-draped figure. soft voluptuary. mysterious no one could imagine the and romantic poetry that is the artist has put into this simple head. magnificent. but he was not finally elected until 1857. that M. his Education de la Vierge. bored—to his aus- pink. little High up to the right.^ A long time ago he said everything that was required to make him the first among us—that is agreed. like pictures.4 THE SALON OF 1845 main a somewhat disputed figme— just enough to add a little lustre to his glory. of progress that 2. It entirely in visible brush-strokes. Nothing remains for him but to advance along the right road— a road that he has always trodden. commits Dernidres paroles de Marc-Aurele^ Marcus Aurelius his son to the Stoics. and which is made clearer it is still in another work is of which we shall shortly speak. see pi. Delacroix's Far from being dazzling or intense. And a very good thing tool He has a right to eternal youth. seemingly a little grouped around him in attitudes of dejection. up- turned. in a very narrow frame. Delacroix is not yet a member of the Academy. 68. painted almost many of M. he has not lied to us like certain thankless idols whom we have borne into our pantheons. a scrap of sky or rock— a touch of blue. Short of seeing amount of intimate. he is and on a path which ceaselessly renews itself— that is to say more than ever of a harmonist. M. A « * fifth.^ A head of a woman. her mouth soft it. on his is death-bed. . This picture demonstrates a truth which we have long suspected. A ^ ^ splendid. and languid. The Magdalen's eyes are closed. Delacroix has sent four pictures i^ La Madeleine dans le desert. it is very gentle and restrained in tone.

means first discovering a logic of light and shade. the other dark. Has the public any idea of how difficult it is to model in colour? It is a double difficulty. and then truth and harmony of tone. . the great Rubens for having painted Henri slovently boot . in one of his official pictures in the Medicis gallery. so it seems to us. since no one else does— this picture is faultless both in draughtsmanship and in modelling. Commodus— that to say. one luminous. 5 A well-known critic has sung the painter's praises for is having placed light. The background is as serious as such a subject requires. They set one another off to great advantage. the past—in the shade. .HISTORY-PAINTINGS ture. Its colour is incomparably yet scientific. aU in one sudden. that ^ The paintings executed by Rubens for the Palais du Liixembourg are now in the Louvre. M. a liberal thrust at the royal excesses. Delacroix has even introduced into this picture some tones which he had not habitually employed before— at least. for the harmony is muffled and deep? And far from losing its cruel originahty in this new and completer science. In modelling with a single toneskill— triumphs is with a stump— the difficulty is simple. all the characters have their share of illumination. the future—in the and the Stoics— that is to say. the colour remains sanguinary and terrible. we have before us one of the most perfect specimens of what genius can achieve in painting. modelling with colour. spontaneous and complex working. . however. if the light is red and the shadow green. it does not contain a single fault. Finally—let us say it. it means discovering at the first attempt a harmony of red and green. which together produce the effect of a monochrome object in relief. Rubens the revolutionary! Oh criticism! Oh you critics! With this picture we are in mid-Delacroix—that is to say. What a briUiant thoughtl But in fact. This equihbrium of green and red delights our heart. And what is it but a series of triumphs of which are invisible to the inattentive eye.^ To him it was a stroke of independent satire. This reminds us of the admiration of a re- publican man of letters who could seriously congratulate IV with a and hose. except for two figures in the half-shadow. Put in another way.

perhaps. that they perfectly and completely render the aspect of nature that they mean to render. The first is M. the second M. We only know of two men in Paris who draw as well as M. draws better. but it is perfectly possible to draw with untrammelled colour. M. that there are two kinds of draughtsmanship— the draughtsmanship of the colourists. Gautier gave himself the trouble of explaining in one of his articles^ last year. but anyone who examines the matter slowly and carefully will see that these three kinds of drawing have this in common. perhaps. Couture—for when a work is well literary temperament and education. the artful adorer of Raphael. the caricaturist. 1844. we mean that this kind of drawing. Ingres. Therefore when we say that this picture is well drawn.. which Raphael's drawing never captures. This is certainly something calculated to astound both friends and enemies. both partisans and antagonists of each one of them. for example. we do not wish it to be imderstood that it is drawn like a Raphael. and the nature of the fragment to the nature of the composition. the physiognomy. Delacroix—one in an analogous and the other in a contrary manner. 28th March. them. must I repeat. Gautier expounds well what he feels finely? I mean. Daumier draws better.. let us love them all three. Daumier. suited to his on the subject of M. the hardly perceptible tremblings of nature. than Delacroix. than either of you prefer laborious niceties to a total harmony. and that of the draughtsmen. if you would prefer healthy. Ingres. perfectly renders the movement. •In La Presse. which has something analogous with that of all the great colourists.' With reference to paradox. if . Rubens. We mean that it is drawn in an extempore and graphic manner. must I re-explain what M. Their procedures are contrary. the great painter. but . who is so much in love with detail. and that they say just what they mean to say. M. just as it is possible for an artist to achieve harmonious colour-masses while remaining an exclusive draughtsman. this impudent piece of blasphemy.6 'This picture this vast THE SALON OF 1845 is faultless in drawing. robust qualities to the weird and amazing powers of a great genius sick with genius.

none. 7 rameau d'orJ Once more the colour is fine and original. . . . As a piece of modelling and texture it is incomparable: the bare shoulder is as good as a Correggio. 69. The Prise de la Smalah d'Abd-el-Kader. . Delacroix had adhas anyone ever in the science of harmony. We. . a crowd of interesting httle anecdotes— a vast tavern mural. It is said that praises can be compromising. These ' See pi. it is . Sibylle qui Une montre le 4. ® in the Toulouse Museum. see pi. The colossal size of this painting ( over sixty feet long ensured it overwhelming critical and popular attention. Delacroix's picture. In spite of the splendour of its hues.S. unknown. HoBACE Vernet. 15. however. neighbours kill it. which it illustrated took place in 1843. Le Sultan de Maroc entoure de This is sa garde et de ses affi- ciers. at any time? Was Veronese more enchanting? Were melodies more fanciful ever set to sing upon a canvas? or a concord more wondrous of new. In shown ever a greater musical seductiveness. and that not better a wise enemy. African painting^ it is is colder than a Everything in of a heart-breaking whiteness and brightness. 67. We know that is we be understood by a small number. its excellent. The head reminds one a Httle of the charming hesitancy of the Hamlet designs. The ® Now military operation see pi. referring a moment ago when we vanced declared that M.) HISTORY-PAINTINGS 3. deHcate and charming tones? We appeal to the honesty of anyone who knows his Louvre to mention a picture by a great colourist in which the colour is as suggestive as in shall only M. this picture is so harmonious that it is grey— as grey as nature. The comhas an element of the unexpected. etc. This fine winter's day. as grey as the summer atmosphere when the sun spreads over each object a sort of twihght film of trembling dust. rather. Therefore you do not notice position is it at it first. because it is it is true and natural P. Unity. now in the Versailles Museum. but that enough.^ the picture to which we were fact. . do believe that possible to compromise genius by explain- ing it.

. Jouvenet? a tent. etc.8 THE SALON OF 1845 kinds of decoration are generally divided up as though into compartments or acts. in a certain sense at least. has M. The second way is certainly the more original. Tintoretto. It truly painful to see floundering about in such a mess of horror. Delacroix's wonderful pictures. first Haussoullier must not be sur- of all. Horace Vemet has followed its that of a serialist— thanks to duly finds the same method— which the spectator's memory landmarks. Veronese. Let the is artist St. at the violence of the praises which we only de- are about to heap upon his picture. etc. and this year he has given us four pictures. nor. a granted and accepted glory. exhibited at the 1822 Salon. its After capital M. but v^ abide in the memory of anyone with eyes and feelings. Horace Vernet never seen the works of Rubens. at the brutal and un- mannerly reception which a French public is according it —at the passing bursts of laughter which it occasions. it is. for we have cided to do so after having conscientiously and minutely analysed it. Whereas M.. We have seen more than one important newspaper-critic tossing it his little meed of mockery. prised. " Ingres' Martyre de saint Symphorian. this is truly the work of the exhibition. a cavern. painted for the Cathedral of Autun and exhibited at the 1834 Salon. over his shoulder. It a fine thing to have a success like Symphorian. HaussouUier remember the outcries which greeted Dante and Virgil. Delacroix has for long been an illustrious genius. by a tree. . Let M. M. the tmique picture of this year's Salon. A it lot of miserable catcalls are yet in store for this work. For M.^^ There are two ways of becoming famous— by the accumulation of annual successes. is an intelligent man Good Heavens. and he has only sent one. some deer. take no notice.^^ and then persevere along his own path. in the second place. or by a bolt from the blue. William HaussouUier was unknown yesterday. Let us rather say. ^ By Delacroix. May success continue ever widening— for success it ought to have. a great mountain. William Haussoullier. M. namely a huge camel. was the centre of violent controversy..

was acquired in London shortly before the war by Mr.HISTORY-PAINTINGS To begin with. Finally. see pi. thin yoimg man standing in front of her. and half recumbent. on the second plane. At the left a young. The subject is the Foimtain of Youth. with forehead a trifle low and Hps a shade forceful. Behind them. which thereby acquire an added vigour. which was later published in Les Stalactites (1846). The painting itself had been exhibited at the Royal Academy in London a year before being shown in Paris. Cr^pet in the Figaro. 'Theatre du sieur Seraphin'. 15th Nov. Theodore de Banville was much struck by it and described it in a poem of the same title ( dated May 1844). also nude. so to speak. A preliminary drawing for it was published by J. Graham Reynolds. or rather a rejuvenated couple. while his companion is pouring some wondrous elixir into the glass of a long. a robust and elegant man— a ravishing head. seems Hke a chrysalis still clothed in the last shift of its metamorphosis. stresses the violent hues of the foreground. they are just beginning to re-emerge. . DeHcate of form. "The children. 9 cannot deny ourselves the pleasure of describing it— such a joyful and delicious task does it seem. which wiU doubtless strike some critics as a little too 'Seraphin'^^ in style—this "This painting. In the middle. and. with skin white as snow. in one another's we arms. As well as Baudelaire. by contrasting with them. she is wringing from her hair the last drops of the health-giving and fertilizing stream. into life. lying at full length on the greensward. A second woman. 1924. in the right-hand comer. 12.^^ In the foregroimd are three groups. is another group. and brown crimped hair— she too is smiling and chatting with her partner. gazing into one another's eyes and talking close together— they appear to be practising Platonic love. In the middle stands a nude woman. The fountain itself. outrageously white. a half-nude woman. and she stiU holds a mirror in which she has just been looking at herself. The standing is in the strong position of dividing the picture symmetrically in two. a marionette-theatre for was well known for its sensational production-effects. these two women figure are vapourously. there is a greater air of sensuality about her. This almost-living statue is admirably effective. he smiles as he puts down his glass on the turf. long believed lost. this.

Its colour is of a terrible. which cries aloud 1 will. or cleft. suggests great determination and finesse. but . and I know that I shall not lack an audience to please 1' The drawing. . Elegance and distinction are the particular mark of this picture throughout. All the attitudes are feHcitous. but a pubHc has to be put on a slope and given an impetus. The background to the right consists of a grove in which a kind of joyful sheets of water. we could guarantee the justice of the pubHc towards this artist. and our pen more unknown than M.. There is no chance of not seeing it. thin as air. into wavering fringes. and one which makes men— true men. it serious. Will it have a swift success? We cannot tell.lO THE SALON OF 1845 much to our liking. The sentiment of this picture is exquisite. especially in a Museum— it is very showy. it shows us people making love and drinking— a sight that thrills the senses—but they are drinking and making love in a deeply melancholy manner. In our opinion this picture has one very important quality. This painting possesses another prodigious quality. which might even be accounted rash. if the artist were a weaker man. the facial expressions are pretty. It is true that every public possesses a conscience and a fund of good vidll which urge it towards the true.. it is distinguished —a merit so sought after by the gentlemen of the school of Ingres. too. bent and bearded. almost a and ferments of youth. HaussouUier's talent. this is absolute. Along a vmiding pathway. ballet is two taking place. self- convinced painting. If it is even were possible to re-exhibit the same work at different and on different occasions. Far from the storms is a second youth which knows the value of life and can enjoy it in tranquillity. and beautiful according to my own lights. Nevertheless his painting is quite bold enough to suptimes. Moreover it contains some happy tonal combinations. an unrelenting rawness. it is possible that the artist will one day become a genuine colourist. I will be beautiful. come happy sixty-year-olds. this has faith—faith in its own beauty. it fairy-tale fountain is divides into and is tapered. which leads the eye right into the background of the picture.

epic.HISTORY-PAINTINGS port attack. the man of impossible labours. . But frankly—in spite of all the pleasure it gives us to peruse an artist's works for the various transformations of his art and the successive preoccupations of his mind- we miss the old Decamps a Httle. he hasl Let us hasten to correct any exaggeration in that sentence by saying that never was imitation better concealed. it is praiseworthy. Let us hurry on quickly—for Decamps kindles the curiosity in advance—you can always promise yourself a surprise—you count on something new. " The Supplice des in 1839. admit that after our sweet contemplation the names of Giovanni Bellini and of one or two other early Venetian painters crossed our mind? Is M. who could overturn houses with a push of his shoulder— Samson. it is perfectly permissible. to think we ?—but our wretched duty compels us of everything!— dare we. Let him beware of his erudition. Decamps has contrived for us a surprise which surpasses aU those on which he worked for so long and with so much love in the past— I mean the Crochets and the Cimhres. fantastic. picture.^^ This year M. This year M. strange. let him beware even of his taste—but that is a glorious failing— and this picture still contains enough originality to promise a happy future. With the sense of choice which particularly distinguishes him. nor more skilful. it is the frankly. baroque. and paint a it 11 suggests a man who sponsibility for his works. so he has only can assume reto go off and new that . by Heaven. . that antique cousin of Hercules and the Baron von Miinchausen. and one many an excellent impulse. . he has hit upon that one among aU biblical subjects which best suits with the nature of his talent. even. crochets (Wallace Collection) was exhibited and the Defaite des Cimbres (Louvre) in 1834. Now dare we have so openly displayed our sympathies. Decamps has given us a bit of Raphael and Poussin. HaussouUier perhaps one about their art? That is of those who know too much a truly dangerous scourge. that represses the spontaneity of Decamps. I say. mythological story of Samson. to imitate thus. Yes.

side by side with an effect of an open window and the sun streaming through it to light up the floor. but a set of lithographic reproductions by Eugene le Roux exists. is incorrect . Pierre du Colombier {Decamps. would not have realized it in a different way? But M. Paris. you will find figures comporting themselves happily enough in the grand manner. For example. nevertheless it pains us to be reminded of M. those rocky boulders. is broad-shouldered and invincible Samson in which the condemned to is turn a miU-stone—his head of hair. in her simultaneous moments of fantasy and reality—in her most sudden and most unexpected aspects. a very Italian cast to them. the same three are reproduced in the Delessert sale catalogue. and although it is true to say that it was M. Guignet when we are in front of a Decamps. however. such as would rejoice the heart of the most industrious Fleming. 1928) reproduces three of tlie set. Decamps himself— very Flemish intelligence. In the drawing. no "Decamps* Histoire de Samson in nine drawings was unanimously praised by the critics. of which one is now in the Lyons Museum. The drawings were dispersed at the Delessert sale in May 1911. Decamps who first taught them. and this mingUng of the spirit of the great masters with that of M. Several of tiiese drawings have. The finest of all is undeniably the last. Decamps loves to capture nature in the very act. The statement in Benezit's dictionary that such a set is in the Musee des Arts D^coratifs. those horizons of granite have been famiHar to the whole of the younger school.12 THE SALON OF 1845 The first of these designs^^— the sudden appearance too well. with gestures and attitudes of historical grandeur— you will find the purest essence of this artist's genius in a flying silhouette of a figure his stride who is taking several steps in and remains eternally suspended in mid-air. as we have already said. that of the angel in the midst of a wide landscape— makes the mistake of recalling things that for long we know raw sky. How many others would have dreamt of this detail? or if they had. Decamps liimself made a set of reduced replicas. which represents the overturning of the temple— a drawing composed like a great and magnificent picture. including that which shows Samson at the mill. in certain respects— has produced a most curious result. or rather his mane.

just because of the new aims which it reveals. I was just about to say that sense which we missed is so much in the earlier drawings. no doubt—is silhouetted against the wall. in an attentive attitude. And although one might perhaps find fault with the over-Hteral treatment of a wall here and an object there. to the strange and poetic story of Samson. at last is a true bit of Decamps. a set of heroic vignettes.^^ AcHiLLE Deveria. the resigned sadness. he walks ponderously.!''^ over the defunct and each time " Paragraphs on Robert-Fleury and Granet are omitted here. De Profundis M. in which Eugene Deveria's Naissance de Henri TV (1827. Eugene Dev^ria. and fine enough. then. this series of designs constitutes one of the finest surprises which this prodigious artist has yet produced. and is watching him work. now in the Louvre) was praised at the expense of his most recent work. . of fantasy. Decamps has produced a magnificent illustration. In the shadowed foreground an overseer— a duce those inquisitive onlookers behind a grill —the thing was already fine. Samson turning the wheel like a draft-horse. But no doubt he is already getting some new ones ready for us. in the wall And so we may say that M. to our way of thinking.HISTORY-PAINTINGS more—his like a I3 eyes are blinded—the hero is bending to his toil draft-animal—trickery and treachery have mastered that terrible strength which was capable of overturning the very laws of nature. and of the comic. "This probably refers to the article by Gautier in La Presse (28th March 1844). nevertheless. here at last we find that sense of irony. or with the meticulous and artful mixture of painting and pencil. Here. What could be more complete than these two figures and the mill-stone? And what more interesting? There was no need even to intro- drag a cartload of manure or of offal for cats. stooping with a rude naivet^the naivety of a dispossessed lion. of the best vintage. the almost brute abasement of the king of the forests made to jailor. The word has gone round among critics and journalists to start intoning a charitable talent of his brother. And now for a fair name. now for a true and noble artist.

and it does honour to their feelings. full of feminine charms. all his new names—has He was skilled at colouring drawings were distinguished. ^ See p. and all for our pleasure. this artist poured forth from the inexhaustible well of his invention a stream of ravisliing vignettes. Jules David. per- fumed like a society of the Restoration. Achille Deveria has painted an excellent picture in his Sainte Anne instruisant la Vierge. at the Bouffes. women of his were idealizations of women that one had seen and desired in the evening at the cafe-concerts. and burn a few candles in honour of his ruined genius. they devoutly enshroud him in the Birth of Henri IV. it is true. . "In 1837 Jules David had published a set of moralistic litliographs entitled Vice et Vertu. and motlier of the comte de Chambord. and distilled a strangely pleasing kind of reverie.14 THE SALON OF 1845 the fancy takes that glorious old veteran of romanticism to his face. over which there hovers. but he has painted a picture whose great value consists in qualities of elegance and clever composition. which the dealers buy for three sous Those Hthoand sell for a franc. it proves that those gentlemen have a conscientious love of beauty. the blond. little interior-pieces. of plaiting a of few loyal tributes to the name M. All those fascinating and sweetly sensual the lithographic stone. or in the great Salons. at the Opera. Vidal. guardian angel.20 We are not going to say that M. It is more a patchwork of colour than a painting. and ^^The duchesse de Berry (1798-1870). 34. are the faithful representatives of that elegant. Achille Deveria? For long years. So far so good. He exhibited tliree water-colours at the 1845 Salon.i^ or the pedantic paradoxes of M. daughter-in-law of Charles X. of charm- ing life. romantic ghost of the duchesse de Berry. and today all our routine-minded and anti-poetic asses have turned their loving eyes towards the virtuous asininities and ineptitudes of M. But how comes it that no one thinks of tossing a show few sincere blossoms. graphs.^^ But what ingratitude! People speak of them no longer. of graceful scenes of fashionable such as no Keepsake— in spite of the pretensions of the since published.

you mob of egotists I Boulanger's Sainte famille^^ is detestable. Painting and Poetry. of Catholic art I5 and of bold handling. M. ^ The Duval Lecamuses ( father and son were and Delaroche Ary ScheflFer. His Baigneuses—a. Antoine pupils of David ) Maurin was a pupil of ^Boulanger achieved his first great success in 1827 with Le Supplice de Mazeppa (Rouen Museum). who doubtless found its irksome task too fatiguing that day. Victor Hugo that has destroyed M. Boissard. writer and dandy. this is the abyss to which the unbridled course of Mazeppa has led.HISTORY-PAINTINGS in these days of pictorial criticism. was a friend of Baudelaire's in the days of the Club des Haschischins. musician. little better than Duval Lecamuses or Maurins.^^ It is M. His Bergers de VfrgiZe—mediocre. a work like this must of necessity seem somewhat naive and out of its element. Paris. ^Boissard de Boisdenier. did not deem it proper to admit it. It is to sesses the qualities of a ^ Now in the church of Saint-Medard. painter. But And be regretted that M. Boissard has always contrived to BoisSARD. has not been able to show us this year an allegorical picture of his representing Music.^* who posgood painter. it is the poet that has tumbled the painter into the yet M. Here we have the last ruins of the old romanticism—this what it means to come at a time when it is the accepted belief that inspiration is enough and takes the place of everything else. then at least you might bury him to the accompaniment of a chord or two on the orchestra. Boulanger— after having destroyed so many is others. . respectively. The jury. Boulanger can paint decently enoughwhere on earth did he win his diploma as history-painter and inspired artist? Can it have been in the prefaces and odes of his illustrious friend? look at his portraits. ditch.22 but his Portrait d'homme is a good piece of painting. But if the works of a famous man who was once your joy seem today to be naive and out of their element.

^^ its Le Kalife de Constantine suivi de son The immediate attraction of this picture Hes in composition. A series of fifteen etchings which appeared ^ A paragraph on Debon is omitted here. and thanks to the serious and what one might call the naive quahties of his painting. ScHNETZ. That M. is still is it revolution going on in must be obvious that many a this youthful mind. This procession of horses and noble riders has something that suggests the spontaneous boldness of the great masters. noticed how concerned he was with tastes as distinguished and a mind as active as those of M. and Delacroix. Boulanger prompted us to speak. elsewhere it is still only a patchwork of colouring. Here and there it already achieves colour. and that the struggle not yet over. But to anyone who has carefully followed M. Alasl what pictures? to is be done with these vast Itahan We are in Schnetz will still 1845— but we are very afraid that be giving us the same kind of thing ten years from now. . but that. which he wants to create for himself between Ingres. Chasseriau. he should make the fact so obvious— that is where the evil hes. As early the Othello illustrations^^ ever)'one had imitating DelacroLx. escorte. there is every ground for hoping that he will become a painter. whose pupil he is. The we are glad to repeat. and an eminent one. Chasseriau.l6 THE SALON OF 1845 keep his head above the troubled waters of that bad period of which M. His Christ en croix is solidly painted and its coloin: is good. And so this picture contains contradictions. in 1844. as is excellent. w^hom he is seeking to plunder.^^ But given ^ ^^ Now in tlie Versailles Museum. Chasseriau's studies. Nevertheless its general effect is pleasing. has an element of ambiguit)' for everybody—and of embarrassment for himself. see pi. he has preserved himself from danger. in spite of all his talent and of all the precocious experience that he has acquired. and its compoposition sition. Chasseriau should find his quarry in DelacroLx is simple enough. 17.

or a crackbrained genius? There are things to be said for either view —expert intentions side by side with the blunders of youth. Is M. good—in The bits. that it has been quite sufficiently by the pundits to right its roasted of the press. this is and one of the one of the most interesting pictures most worthy of attention. . And yet what a curious idea was to show these gentlemen Europe being enlightened by Religion. in 1929) contain much useful information concerning Delacroix's methods. than to palingenesique'. or to is one of the noblest is branches of art? The colour of this enormous composition it at least. atti- tudes of some of the beautiful It is women who symbolize the its various nations are elegant and original. as weU as information about the present picture. LepauUe. however. as in a picture by Claude whose manikins are allowed to tumble about as they Uke. Victor Robert a consummate artist. in the miserable business of writcome upon a genuinely good and original picture whose name has already been made— by hoots and catcalls. Here lucky.^^ no joy so sweet.^^ Planet There is one of those rare pupils of Delacroix who bril- liantly reflect certain of their master's quahties. unfortunate that the eccentric idea of assigning geographical position to each people should have tile damaged all ensemble of the composition and the charm of the little groups.^^ and to represent each European people by a figure occupying its geographical position in the picture! How could one hope to make something bold acceptable to make them understand that allegory those scribblers. Appert and Bigand are omitted here. and that the time has now come it wrongs. Glaize. is I7 a picture which has been very un- We think. ^Planet's Souvenirs (published long after his death. Mouchy. ^ The catalogue contained a lengthy explanation of this picture. Philosophy. But on the whole in the Salon. even reveals a search after fresh tones. the Sciences and the Arts. and that the figures should thus have been spilt over the canvas.HISTORY-PAINTINGS Victor Robert. Gautier described it as *cet immense tableau humanitaire et is ing a Salon-review. ^ Paragraphs on Brune.

Teresa's Life ( ch. sinking. St. Teresa. Quoted. hanging in mid-air and about to transfix her with his javelin? No.l8 THE SALON OF 1845 And in fact this picture really has been jeered at. sculptors painting. otherwise known as Les Illusions perdues. so long as it was only women warbHng romantic ballads way as a poor opera can triumph ^ La Vision de produced on '^ the heart of the sentiSoir. This picture distills an atmosphere of extreme sensuous rapture and marks its author as a man who is capable of thoroughly understanding a subject—for we are told that St. . and the result is deUcate and caressing to the eye. from St. re- pi. all first-rate M. Teresa. in the catalogue. her pain was not bodily but spiritual. now in a private collection. The is hands are charming. the dart with which Divine Love about to pierce her. for all naturalness. §17). We can perfectly well understand the hatred of architects. as poetic as could be. falling. and brown. . The attitude. '"A paragraph on Dugasseau is omitted here. 42.^'^ And that was all a question of painting in a over its boat— in the same music with the is sainte Therese. Le very well. even a large one'. See pi. masons. " Now in the Louvre. has done what colomists do— that he has achieved colour with a small quantity of tones— with red.^^ Gleyre. . Planet is obviously talented enough to paint a complete picture another time. although her body had its share in it. Teresa was 'afire with so great a love of God that its violence caused her to cry out aloud And . but things in and modellers towards anything that looks hke how comes it that artists can be blind to such this picture as its originahty of composition. and at the very start even it its simpHcity of colour? We were charmed by some hint which contains of an almost Spanish voluptuousness.^^ as the painter has represented her thrilling at the point of is here— St. Planet is.^^ Are we going to speak about the mystical httle cupid. What is the point? M. 18. is among the happiest inventions in modern its painting. white. He it was that captured mental public with his picture. XXIX.

in Clement. like M. But on the whole. Paragraphs on Pilliard and Auguste Hesse are omitted here. Decamps— which is our reason for including him among the history-painters. but with the manner in which an artist works. By this we do not mean to refer to choice of subject— for in that respect artists are not always free—but rather to ^ This ** painting is now in the church at Montargis.HISTORY-PAINTINGS delightful aid of IQ undraped bosoms— or rather behinds. and while we were scrutinizing them with the pleasure that any honest work will always afford. of which some represent the great struggle between Arminius and the invading Romans. bear a dealers noble family likeness to the excellent compositions of Peter ComeHus. 1878. ^'A German artist. Gleyre. we still yearn and cry aloud for originality: we should like to see this same talent arrayed in support of ideas more modern— or rather.^^ Joseph Fay. Joseph Fay^^ has sent six drawings representing the life of the ancient Germans—they are the cartoons for a frieze executed in fresco in the town hall at Elberfeld in Prussia. Joseph Fay was in Paris in 1845-6. . These drawings. we found ourselves thinking of all those modern celebrities from the other side of the Rhine. Their draughtsmanship is adroit and skilful. reproIV. if it be not actually in love with it. in support of a new way of seeing and of understanding the arts. Every movement is happily conceived and denotes a mind which sincerely loves form. after an engraving. But this year M. it is pi. duced. And as a matter of fact these things did strike us as more than a little Germanic. Gleyre has taken it into his head to paint apostles^^—apostles. He studied for a time with Delaroche. and tends towards the neo-Michelangelesque. M. We were attracted to these drawings because of their beauty. Joseph Fay has sent only drawings. We are not concerned here with the technique. M. and others the serious and ever-martial games of Peace. M. who are published by the on the Boulevard des Italiens. and it is for that that we like them. Gleyrel and alas! he has not proved capable of triumphing over his own painting. despite the beauty of this array of intellectual power.

there is a natural harmony here between colour and drawing. and that colour is a melodious science whose secrets are not revealed by merely knowing how to cope with marble? It would be possible to understand a musician wanting to ape Delacroix— but a sculptor. with flowers on her knee.' Oh sculptor! you who have been known to give us good statues— are you unaware. in the lower part. of which the two chief ones represent Chastity and Harmony. ^ Paragraphs on "^ Jollivet. *" Etex's painting was entitled see pp. a certain mystical quality which is in keeping with the rest. Janmot's Fleurs des cJiamps is now in the Lyons Museum. then.^^ This simple figure. 16. which is both serious and melancholy. fine painting. Here. however. it will be enough to read the subject of another of his pictures in the catalogue:— 'T/ie Assumption of the Virgin. never! Oh great hewer of stone. Laviron and Matout are omitted here. and whose fine draughtsmanship and sHghtly raw colour remind one of the old German masters— this graceful Dilrer made us excessively curious to find the others. On liis sculpture . that there is a great difference between designing upon a canvas and modelling with clay. he also ex- hibited two portraits. see pi. The Rehabilitation of Woman not successful. pink and red tones. and in this slightly distressing combination of green. seated. To complete the idea that one should form of M. In a word. La Delivrance. We were only able to find a single figure-subject by M. there is in the colour itself. Janmot— it is of a woman. —an angel breaking her chains. what the point of all this erudition when a man has talent?^® Janmot. well chosen and well attired. but we were we certainly have a and quite apart from the fact that the model is very beautiful. 36-7 below. why do you want to play the fiddle?^^ Etex. Janmot's talent. in the upper part. Besides his Assumption (mentioned below).20 the THE SALON OF 1845 manner in which subjects are comprehended and deis picted. the Blessed Virgin surrounded by angels.

the millinery. while exercising choice. In our opinion the bourgeois is man who provides him with such pretty women— and almost always such elegantly attired quite right to idolize the ones. steps of his father. DuBUFE. Eugenie Gautier's painting has nothing to do with woman s ^The 'painting. and father.PORTRAITS Zl in PORTRAITS Leon Cogniet Salon cane. If he does not aspire to the is one of those talents which defy criticism by their very completeness within their own moderation. Cogniet is as unacquainted with the reckless flights of fantasy as with the rigid systems of the absolutists. to mix and to combine. If a far cry from it is M. the background—is handled with an level of genius. Dubufe it is has been the victim of every art-journalist. Fine colour—firm and elegant drawing. Savantes. which usually makes us think of the domestic precepts of the excellent Chrysale. Dubufe has a son who has declined to walk in the and has blundered into serious painting. Everything in this excellent portrait—the fleshtones. Every connoisseur of painting will remember the modelling of two bare arms in a portrait which she showed at the last Salon. Dubufe artist's to Sir Thomas Lawrence. M. in the occupies a very high position in the middle reaches of taste and invention. This woman knows her old masters—there is a touch of Van Dyck about her— she paints like a man. at any rate not with- out a certain justice that he has inherited some of that urbane popularity. Eugenie Gautier. and he has perfectly fulfilled them.^ protesting husband. This artist has a very fine portrait of a woman. To fuse. of Moliere's Femmes . M. Mlle. have always been his role and his aim. For several years now M. his equal feHcity. Mlle.

He has turned out some remarkable pupils— Mile. M. and which. It is diflBcult to find. which is paler still at this stage. Horace Vemet. Haffner has painted a landscape which is very daring in colour— it shows a waggon with a man and some horses. sumptuous or vulgar about excessively distinguished colour. Riesener According to the critic of VIllustration. Last year at the Bonne-Nouvelle galleries we saw a child's head of liis which reminded us of the very best of Lawrence. The whole thing is is carried out within a very grey tonal scale. and remarkably harmonious. the portrait-painter. among the present-day artists. Belloc.22 THE SALON OF 1845 portraits. Perignon's heads are as hard and polished as animate objects. which is a real pity. His colour surpasses that of M. he has a strikingly effective portrait of a woman. Michelet struck us with the excellence M. almost silhouetted against the uncertain brilliance of a twihght sky. Eugenie Gautier is one of them. Very badly hung in the Httle gallery. which is romantically conceived and of a delicate pallor. we beHeve. A real waxwork show. the heroic painter. and Dupont are omitted here. P^rignon was 'le por- traitiste a la mode'. Court in rawness. Did not M. is M. Another new name. Belloc. . M. Belloc has sent several That of M. Its effect very skilfully contrived. As well as this. for us at least. Hippolyte Flandrin. . The head. stands out against a grey background. so that it is at once both soft and striking.2 Haffner. . This portrait betokens a colourist of the is first order. gives the impression of forming a halo around it. M. who is not well enough known. its There is it nothing dazzling. most skilful of of is its colour. Horace Vernet. by growing darker towards the edges. of which six are women. M. Another conscientious seeker . how rare they are I Perignon^ has sent nine portraits. of in- inferior to Horace Vernet. Flandrin once give us a graceful portrait of a ^ ' woman leaning against the front of Paragraphs on Tissier.

exhibited at the 1840 Salon. the father of Baudecounsel in the lawsuit over Les Fleurs du Mai (Aug. Toil and fatigue have printed some goodly wrinkles upon it—but of these the artist shows no knowledge. All of M. he has It is quite failed to catch the well-known expression of that fine- drawn. Reproduced in R. has just given us the keenest pleasure to by M. Henri Scheffer's portraits are painted with the same bHnd and meticulous honesty. Barbiera's La Principessa Belgioioso (edition of 1914). . ^ Jurist. ' ® Paragraphs on Richardot and Verdier are omitted here. ' Henri Lehmann's portrait of the Princess Belgiojoso was one of the great successes of the 1844 Salon. with a bxinch of violets at her bosom?* But Ange. we dare not suppose that this portrait of His Majesty was done from fife. Flandrin has been able to carry it through to perfection. facing p. as the property of the Marchese Franco Dal Pozzo. It pains us that France should not possess a single portrait of her King. sardonic and ironical face. Nevertheless it heavy and dull. of seeming to have been done all in one breath and at the a small one. as this picture is M. Its general effect may be a little too gentle. To the give this artist his proper due.^ This he has come to grief in his portrait of M. A paragraph on Leiendecker is omitted here. repro. and the whole thing has the merit.^ Nevertheless. Kke M.'^ Henri Scheffer. Ingres. laire's statesman and barrister ( 1800-76). 166 in Louis Flandrin's Hippolyte Flandrin. There are but few faces in contemporary history which are so strongly marked as that of Louis-Philippe. Chaix-d'Estis but the semblance of serious painting. The modelling is beautiful. the same monotonous and patient conscientiousness. One man alone is worthy of that task—it is M. Lehmann's portrait find a female portrait of the Princess Belgiojoso.* * Presumably the portrait of Mme. Oudine. and perhaps it makes the mistake of not rivetting the eye.PORTRAITS alas! 23 a theatre-box. Sa Vie et son Oeuvre (Paris 1902). Flandrin— a simple head— which reminded us once more of his best works. 1857). first attempt. which is rare among these gentlemen.

. Moniteur des Arts 'Repro. (I. p. No doubt our genre-painter own back for this year's aberration. But it is not only colour. but It that. that go to will get his make a portrait. Salomon de Cans. fiery braziers. TJn Interieur dalchimiste. M. the most justly fortunate of the Lecurieux. This explains the partiahty of certain colourists for so commonplace a subject. vast morocco-bound tomes. but lines and modelhng. 5 (1845). frequently subtle. 57. and an old man in a dressing-gown— that is to say. This year he has sent pictures whose magical colour surpasses even the fantastic visions of the kaleido- some small full-length portraits.. a great diversity of tints. and a lot borrowed from Roqueplan and Clement Boulanger. lllustr. stufiEed birds. Salomon de Caus was an engineer who in his writings foreshadowed the theory of steampower.24 THE SALON OF 1845 little Diaz. Illustr.^ We are in a popular playhouse that has gone in for real literature for a ^Repro. it must be ac- counted the rococo of Romanticism. He has made it an excuse for introducing pretty women. 96). for all efiFect is most engaging. 41. M. IV GENRE-PAINTINGS Baron has taken his Oies du pdre Thilippe^ from one of La Fontaine's tales. p. d Bicetre. He has been one of men of the new movement. 5 (1845).^ These scenes always contain crocodiles. a Httle of Celestin Nanteuil's technique. IsABEY. shady Its trees. vol. general and variegated colours. Stand in front of this picture and reflect how cold an excessively expert and brilliantly-coloured painting can still remain when it lacks an individual temperament. vol. of tints contains elements of Couture. "Repro. Isabey is a true colourist— always brilliant. Diaz usually paints scope. The story of his confinement in the as)'lum at Bicetre is .

''Paragraphs on Duval Lecamus (pere) (Jules) are omitted here. The production is well-staged. who is gesticulating like a maniac in the background. love-scene. however. Guillemin wastes too much talent supporting a bad cause— the cause of wit in painting. cannot understand Marion Delorme's dismay at the sight of such charming lunatics. which is quoted in the catalogue. picturesque. Paragraphs on Leleux freres and Lepoitevin are omitted here. M. day. on the other hand. a httle devotional picture. M. It is as russet in colour as a wretched. ^ Celeste Pensotti is omitted here. Can it be the Saturday public. and his Lutin Puck with one from Shakespeare.*^ related in a letter from Marion Delorme. beneath a coronet of flowers and httle cupids. all 25 the actors are A upon great lord. the point of attempting what is called serious painting What is when neither a colourist nor a draughtsman?* Tassaert. we The drawing— that one is of a vignette. dust-ridden Indeed. We GuiLLEMiN. By this I mean providing the catalogue-printer with captions aimed at the Sunday pubHc.GENRE-PAINTINGS change. is turning a deaf ear to the complaints of Salomon. the famous 17th century courtesan. and facing the public. and Duval Lecamus . He combines good. moderately bright colour with a great deal of taste. with Marion Delorme leaning sinuously his arm. The uniform e£Fect created by this picture is one of cafe au lait. and know their parts perfectly. So it is not enough to be a colourist in order to have taste. MuUer thinks to please when he chooses his subjects from Shakespeare and Victor Hugo?^ Enormous 'Empire' cupids in the guise of sylphs. had aheady taken note of M. " MuUer's Sylphe endormi was supported with a quotation from Victor Hugo. Tassaert last year. an illustration. His Fanny. is done almost like a The Virgin suckling the infant Jesus.^ his execution certainly has merit. *A paragraph on Mme. that is better. Though MuLLER. all the lunatics are charming. The curtain has just risen.

Gigoux has given us the pleasant task of rereading the account of the death of Manon Lescaut^ in the catalogue. although the recent usages of the Academy of Painting were too clearly discernible. one is reproduced Illustr. Nevertheless their general appearance ® Repro.^ His Italian women this year make us regret those of last year. vol. p. Calamatta are omitted here. vol. exhibited ^Memphis. Gigoux himself in this picture—the M.^^^ Italy Papety showed great promise. he had nevertheless hit upon some felicitous poses and several compositional motifs. . to whose portrait of the Princess Belgiojoso is reference above. IV. Whatever is this Desgrieux? would not recognize him. they say. there was every ground for predicting the artist a serious future. it has no style. in 1843. 137.. (1845). M. there Paragraphs on De la Foulhouse. Can it be that he is embarrassed today by his . . and its composition and colour are bad. and Ferran's edition of Salon de 1845. ^° De Dreux and Mme. 4th series.. I'Artiste. His two pictures this year {Memphis and Un Assaut)^^ are commonplace in colour. and another Moniteur des Arts (II. p. Perese. . 178. Gigoux who several years ago was acclaimed by the public as the equal of the most serious innovators in art. But his picture is bad. Of the former's paintings of Italian peasant women. Illustr. lacks all feeling for I its It lacks all character. Un Assaut Guillaume de Clermont ddfendant PtoUmais) is in die Versailles Museum. On his return from (which was heralded by some injudicious applause). and in spite of its fan-Hke colour. tlie ^ Rudolphe Lehmann is not to be confused with his brother Henri Lehmann. vol. it subject. Since then he has remained in the secondary class of the men who paint weU and have portfolios fuU of scraps of ideas aU ready to be used. 137. " Presumably his RSve de bonheur. No more can I recognize M. 5 title.26 THE SALON OF 1845 GiGOux. he exhibited an enormous canvas^^ in which. (correct repro. 41). p. facing p. 5 ( 1845). reputation as a painter? RuDOLPHE Lehmann.

he knows how . the charm. even the most deserved ones. vol. he repHed that the only thing he had seen was a Meissonier— in order to avoid speaking about the equally famous Monsieur Y. then. minus the fantasy. said exactly the same thing! See what a good thing it is to act as a club for two rivals to beat one another withl On the whole M. But why. Salvator. Adrien Guito compose and arrange. This year you would think that he had taken some motives from Egyptian sculpture or antique mosaics. contain a mass of Httle secrets. In spite of ourselves. 184. M. Guignet ? Guignet. 'Le plus pense. Illustr. was . Why then does M. this perpetual doubt? One moment it is Decamps. the colour.. {Jeune (1845). homme regardant des dessins). There is Admen gnet has talent. 14. when the celebrated Monsieur X. All reputations. See pi. fashions change —and with them. Meissonier executes his little figures admirably. homme cartes. was asked what he had seen at the Salon. Roehn. and the next. " Paragraphs on Jacquand. Martin Drolhng.GENRE-PAINTINGS diflFers 2/ imagine that M. Meissonier. even so they would do them in the manner of Salvator or Decamps. manners.. no doubt that M. Thus. Three pictures: Soldats jouant aux des—Jeune feuilletant un carton?-^— Deux buveurs jouant aux Times change— and with them. . He is a Fleming. Meismakes us think of M. p. which leads us to Papety has not yet discovered his manner. . for his part. sonier schools. on papyrus (Les Pharaons) . who.^^ And yet if Salvator or Decamps were painting Psammenit or Pharaoh.'^^ tetu des trois nest pas celui quon Rouen 5 " Joseph expliquant les songes du Pharaon is now in the Museum. "Repro. " 'The most stubborn of the tliree is not the one you think'. Remond and Henri Scheffer are omitted here. the naivete— and the pipe!^^ Hornung. considerably. and then had coloured them.

M. Le Meunier. . the views and the colours for which he has a fondness—to fostering the same subjects. See the ting La Fontaine. who already had the good -sense to imitate him and to profit by his manner before he was famous and at a time when his reputation still did not extend beyond the world of the studios. 1. they agree in this. 37. in fact. The quahties by which he excels are so strong— because they are quahties of heart and soul—that M. After having conscientiously admired and faithfully praised a picture by Corot. Theodore Rousseau^ were to exhibit. See above. Now. Corot of Hornung's painting. others have even tried to paraphrase his awkwardness. From a the depths of his modesty. p. it showed a boy and a girl siton a donkey. See n. and served Baudelaire witli a con\'enient riddle with which to dismiss his last three genre-painters. Corot's worth. that decidedly title M. Corot has acted upon whole host of artists. LANDSCAPES CoROT. Corot's influence is visible today in almost all the works of the young landscape-painters— in those. Some have devoted themselves to combing nature for the themes. for to a naivete. 117. above all. son ' fih.. THE SALON OF 1845 Geffroy. which constitute M. Corot's. Rosseau adds a greater charm and a greater sureness of execution. on the subject of this pretended awkwardness of M. Corot. M. our fledghng connoisseurs always end by declaring that it comes to grief in its execution. his supremacy would be in some doubt. Obviously this artist loves Nature sincerely. it seems to us that there is a sHght misconception to clear up. At the head of the modern school of landscape stands M. It is naivete and originaHty. and knows how to look at her with as much knowledge as love. If M. See above. an originaHty which are at least equal. et I'dne.ZS Bard.

that there is a great di£Eerence between a work that is complete and a work that is finished. which lit up and coloured the grass in a different manner from the foreground. His composition is always impeccable. Moniteur des Arts 152).LANDSCAPES does not all ZQ 1 know how to paint. was certainly a most successful stroke of aesthetic daring. nothing to be pruned— not even the two Httle figures walking away in conversation down the path. Corot paints like the great masters. its Exhibited in 1844 as Pay sage avec figures. That verdant landscape.— from all of which it follows that M. it is now in the Chantilly Museum {Le Concert).. Thus in his Homere et les bergers^ there is nothing unnecessary.. Corot's powers. like those excellent Httle scraps of bas-reHef which are sometimes to be found on the pedestals of antique statues. is that he knows how to be a colourist within a scarcely varied tonal range— and that he is always a harmonist even when he uses fairly raw and vivid tones. expressive and well-placed touch is enormous. etc. *Repro. this picture was extensively repainted by the artist and exhibited again thirteen years later. The three Httle shepherds with their dog are enchanting. pi. a work of the soul). 20. M. well understood and well imagined. and that a thing that is highly finished need not be complete at all. in which a woman was sitting playing are the violin—that pool of sunlight in the middle distance. well observed. . will always be very well executed when it is sufficiently so. in which every element is well seen. perhaps? Daphnis et Chloe"^ is another picture full of charms. ^ ^ Now in the Saint-L6 Museum. etc. Next. We need look no further for an example than to his picture of last year. Another proof of M. Splendid fellows who first of unaware that a work of genius (or if you prefer. that in general what is complete is not finished. gHstening and industriously poHshed morsels that the same criticism always levelled at him. be it only in the sphere of technique. Corot is quite as strong this year as in the past— but the eye of the pubHc has become is so ac- customed to neat. But is not Homer himseH a Httle too much like BeHsarius. and that the value of a telling.^ which was imbued with an even greater tenderness and melancholy than usual. See (I.

and one that we it should be incHned to characterize as 'love of nature'. Troyon 'always paints beautiful. Moniteur des Arts (I. 64). This year Calame exhibited Un Orage and Diday La Suite d'un orage dans les Alpes. CxmzoN has painted a highly original view called Les Houblons. . Huet. His painting. Paragraphs on Flers and Wickemberg are omitted here. Paul Huet is seeking to modify But it was aheady excellent as it was. Calame and Did ay J For the impression that this a long time people were under was one and the same artist. HafiFner. like THE SALON OF 1845 all good compositions— as observed— has the merit of the unexpected. but later it was observed that ^ " Repro.^ is beautiful in colour. more artful— it smacks much more of painter— and it is also easier to understand. his Can it be M. M. we have often Francais is another landscape-painter of the highest merit —a is its merit somewhat hke that of Corot. that Un vieux chateau sur des rochers. Paul. luxuriant landscapes. but already less naive. Le Soir. This the first time that we have he is seen works by M. Prodigious originaHty— above is all in colour. It is not pleasant to see a man so sure of himself. and he paints them in the role of colourist and even that of observer—hut he always wearies the eye by the unshakeable self-confidence of his manner and the restless flicker of his brush-strokes. 'Calame was tlie pupil of Diday. As well as this. so we do not know if by rights a landscape-painter or a portrait-painter— all the more so because he excels in both genres. framed in the leaves and branches of the foreground. Curzon has produced a very fine drawing of which we shall shortly have occasion to speak.30 composition. It is quite simply a horizon. manner? Haffner. suffering from a chronic dualism.

Illustr. ® His Pont Chinois was repro. Frere. man of sense and talent as he is. Brascassat. vol.. more broadly paiated. .— Similarly too much fuss is made of ^Paragraphs on Dauzats. Eternal views of India and China. It is understandable that a man should damp down the reflected Kghts on a head in order to make the modelling more visible— and above all so when his name is Ingres. " Of five landscapes exhibited. must really know that the Flemish gallery contains a lot of pictures of the same kind as his^^. according to M.LANDSCAPES 3I he had a preference for the name Calame on the days when he was painting well. one.quite as fully realized. Ill.^ Doubtless it is all very well done. however.and of a better colour. Moniteur des Arts (I. 5 ( 1845). Paul Flandrin. who sigh for what they have never seen— such as the boulevard du Temple. 1.. He had been exhibiting Chinese and Indian views since 1836. Lapierre and Lavieille are omitted here. p. 112). "A favourite rendezvous in the Palais-Royal: it had already been demolished when Baudelaire wrote. " The allusion is to a passage in Heine's Die romantische Schule (Bk. and the site is now occupied by the Galerie d' Orleans.^^ takes on a comic sound as it slips past the Httle hanging bells. There are people. or the galeries de Boisl^^ M. §1). Heine. Paysage. and another. who. Vache attaquSe par des hups. Chacaton. 136. But who on earth was the weird eccentric who first took it into his head to mgrize' the country side?^^ Brascassat. and where nature and man cannot look at one another without laughing. repro. Illustr. 39. Borget's pictures make us sigh for that China where the very breeze. ^ Paragraphs on Blanchard. 5 (1845). but they are too much Hke travel-essays or accounts of manners and customs. ch. Gamerey and Joyant are omitted here. Loubon. vol.^ BoRGET. Without doubt too of much fuss is being made M. was repro. p.

without any dogmatism of school or pedantry of studio. Philippe Rousseau and Beranger are omitted here. the penitentiary comer of the known world in which the infinitely minute is wrought the best. He is generally identified with the dealer Arondel who sold Baudelaire false Bassanos and in whose debt Baudelaire long remained. . 119 below). ^Paragraphs on Kiorboe.32 Saint-Jean. On the whole. could see this httle pumped " Fruits et Fleurs. but because at the same time it cap- and believe themselves to be and if the following into their ears painters. M. And from this it follows that parts of it are Unhappily some others are of a muddy brown colour. a copy of which is now in the Dijon Museum. however well executed they may be. where Bau- delaire also had lived. What therefore struck us in this picture was its mixture of clumsiness and skill—blunders suggesting a man who had not painted for a man who had painted a Chazal has painted years. quai d'Anjou. We prefer the flowers and fruits of Rubens. " This obscure artist was twice mentioned by Baudelaire in his salon-reviews (see p. Moreover the general effect of M. It would be a good thing if all those people who cling so desperately to microscopic truth.^^ a great heap of game of every kind. Saint-Jean's pictures of painting. picture. the Yucca gloriosa which flowered last year in the park at Neuilly. they seem to us more natural.^^ Arondel. which gives the picture a certain effect of dinginess—but all the clear or rich tones are thoroughly really well painted. THE SALON OF 1845 who is of the school of Lyons. Httle observations could be through an ear-trumpet:— 'This picture is a success not because everything is there and you can count each leaf. but real dining-room pictures. as though it was aiming above all at quantity—has nevertheless what is a very rare quality these days. and assurance suggesting great deal. effective. the are dining-room pictures—not cabinet or gallery-pictures. His address is given in the catalogue as the Hotel Pimodan.Jean's picture^"* is most wretched— it is monotonously yellow. it is painted \\dth a great naivete. Saint. This illcomposed picture— more a hotch-potch than a composition.

Marechal was one of its leaders.^ A paragraph on De Rudder 5 ( is omitted here. See also p. 272-3) for further details. Without doubt La Grappe^ in colour. 90 below. ^ those figures is and good Marechal. they have this above all in common—they are well drawn. and it was from this that the Ecole de Metz sprang. vol. Une serenade dans un bateau distinguished things in the Salon. whereas all of you spend far too much of your time being artists!' (Sic). . 'Tintoretto giving a drawing-lesson to his daughter' is certainly an excellent thing. Illustr. The SocietS des Amis des Arts at Metz was founded in 1834. these. CuRZON. . Brillouin.. . Repro. See Ferran's edition of the Scdon de 1845 (pp. . because it 33 conveys well the raw greenness of a park beside the Seine and the effect of our cold sun. 1845). What chiefly like those of distinguishes these drawings their seriousness is their nobility of structure. We would say this without wishing from the honour of their efforts ^ " ^ in the very least to detract . however. Their composition on the whole is good. have more firmness and perhaps more character.DRAWINGS— ENGRAVINGS tures the general character of nature. and the characterization of the heads. an imitation of real mastery. Curzon's composition and those of M. Chabal. in short. 185. is one of the most of all The arrangement most happy. p. and the old man lying amid his garlands at the end of the boat is a most dehghtful idea. * Paragraphs on Toumeux. But we must criticize of the school of is a fine pastel. There is some affinity between M. Alphonse Masson and Antonin Moine are omitted here. and drawn with a vivid touch. de Lemud. those gentle- all men Metz^ for only as a rule achieving a conventional seriousness. VI DRAWINGS — ENGRAVINGS Brillouin has sent five pencil-drawings which are a little M. . PoUet. . because it is done with a profound naivete.

His portrait had been painted by Ingres in 1806. Vidal to -finished us as a serious draughtsman. had not exhibited since 1841.^ We in Paris have a right to be suspicious of so often beguiled foreign reputations. who showed nothing in 1845. Jacque's'' etching is very bold and he has grasped his subject admirably. whereas Vincent Vidal.34 ViDAL. ^ Our neighbours have Baudelaire seems to be confusing two artists of tliis name. besides. Here we have a new name which will continue. that the parrot-cry about Vidal's drawings began to be raised. tor Vidal. There is a directness and a freedom about everything that M.^ are incomplete. to have executed some remarkable reproductions of Rembrandt's etchings. Vidal. It THE SALON OF 1845 was last year. M. We beg forgiveness for insisting so strongly on this point— but we know a critic who took it into his head to speak about Watteau in connection with M. Paragraphs on Mme. " La This was Jacque's first Salon. and not Victor. 152). 5 [1845]. Illustr. p.^ It would be a good thing to be finished with it once and for aU. Every effort is now being made to present M. de Mirbel and Henriquel-Dupont are omitted here. and again in 1820. therefore. He is known.. V Gautier had invoked the name of Watteau ( and of Chardin ) in Presse. 91-2 below). Jacque does upon his copper which reminds one of the old masters. and Thore added Boucher and Fragonard. Vidal. repro. Amour de soi-meme. It seems. vn SCULPTURES Babtolini. originated with Vincent. His are very drawings —but they must be admitted that they have more elegance than those of Maurin and Jules David. vol. ^Lorenzo Bartolini (1777-1850) was one of the most admired Italian sculptors of his day. '' . tliat tlie 'prejuge Vidal'. to grow greater. to the best of our belief. nevertheless it Jacque. 16th April. to which Baudelaire again referred in 1846 (see pp. let us hope. had exhibited five pastels in the previous year. Vicwho exhibited five drawings this year (one of tliem.

Certainly it would be diflScult to model or to trace a contour better than M. originality. Thus it was only with an excessive feeling of suspicion that we approached the Nymphe au scorpion. not one of them has there. And yet our comparison is not entirely just. David. this chastity of line which it is by no means excludes the head graceful and originahty. as for us —that we always remain on our guard against new traps. la 'Sur grappe. nobiHty. but it is precisely because of the qualities which our artists have to some extent forgotten—namely taste. whose works always make us think of Ribera. for Ribera is only a man of technique into the bargain. a lack of firmness and a touch of meagreness about the arms— but not one of them has managed to hit upon such a pretty motif. a David. David. now in the Louvre. this fine taste. statue d'enfant. grace—that we regard M. for example. so to speak— in addition to that. the The a workman its obtrudes himself in his work and the purer and clearer more charmed we are. ( C. L'Enfant d ime . statuaire'. coquettish. probable that less quite simply a well-chosen model. BartoHni's exhibit as the capital work of the Salon of sculpture.^ which was already familiar to us from What makes us only the prouder of our opinion is that we know it to be shared by one of the greatest painters of the mod* em ® school. David. if at last they consented to reveal them.* aims. This is far from the case v^dth M. The it is legs are charming. were an object of embarrassment for them. certain flabby passages. Certainly our sculptors have more skill—an excessive preoccupation with technique engrosses them just as it does our painters. is included in his Pensees d'Aout. this purity of aim. We know that more than one of the sculpturizers of whom we are about to speak are very well fitted to pick out the several faults of execution which this statue contains—a little too much softness here. in short. Sainte-Beuve's poem. he is full of fire.SCULPTURES 35 our credulous admiration with masterpieces which tiiey never showed— or which.B. rage and irony. But this time we have found it quite impossible to withhold our admiration from a foreign artist. His child hanging on to a bunch of grapes.

* of its detail to the Museum still it of antique sculpture. 173. his statue is evidently destined for a success. in one leap.^ gains much by of the drapery is good—not at all like that of the generality of sculptors. You would think that M. the feet are very finely v^TOught. with original. More cleverness— but Good Heavens! shall we never get any further? This young artist has already had his good years at the Salon. admittedly less as THE SALON OF 1845 is a few charming lines by Sainte-Beuve. let us stand back and admire its beauty of workmanship. in plaster. ( Phryn^.^ Pradier. towards the supernal regions. like every- which we had already seen being enlarged. vol. but M. to give an exquisite is charm this figure. The fall thing that touches the popular affections). His conceptions are often happy— he possesses a certain pregnancy of thought v^^hich reveals itself quickly enough and which we find pleasing. Having made this point. this Joan of Arc. At the 1835 Salon. but his work is always * * » A paragraph on Bosio is omitted here. it is an intriguing it is real flesh and blood. Pradier had wanted to get away from himself and to mount up. . for it is a prodigious mixture of hidden borrowings. 5 1845). the head is arms and the perhaps a Httle commonplace. M. We do not know how to it is incomparably skilful. but as sense- nature— and surely it is an uncontested truth that it is no part of the aim of sculpture to go into rivalry with plaster-casts. imperfections. lUustr.36 thing. though doubtless one could trace some praise his statue. Quite apart from the fact that its subject virgin purity can generally count is a happy one (for on a public. Certainly a noble tour Bartolini's Nymph. p. all its de force.. it is pretty from every angle. Beneath this skin the old Pradier new to Hves. seems to us to be more Feuchere. Etex has never been able to produce anything complete. " A paragraph on Daumas is omitted here.^ Etex. repro.

Next year let us hope that the true seekers may grant us are looking. One of them. original in type to be a portrait . colours. No one is cocking his ear to to-morrow's wind. . Cumberworth. Thus. .SCULPTURES spoiled 37 by quite considerable passages. and several very fine things. is like all previous Salons. There is no lack of subjects."^ Dantan has done several good busts^—noble. when seen from behind. . The reference is to Dantan the younger. but of invention. let us record tliat everyone is painting better and better— which seems to us a lamentable thing. his group 'Hero and Leander' seems heavy. The painter. with brush or vvdth pencil. to make epics. ideas or temperament there is no more than before. Marie de Camagni enough M . Simart. Hero's shoulders and back are unworthy of her hips and legs. and the lines do not unfold harmoniously. by Delacroix and Decamps. Debay. and yet the heroism of modern life surrounds us and presses upon us. and ob- viously lifelike— as has Clesinger. Dantan aine did not exhibit this year. nor of We do not think that we have been omissions. . how great and poetic we are in our cravats and our patent-leather boots. of Soufflot. will the extraordinary delight of celebrating the advent of the neioP ^Paragraphs on Garraud. This Salon. who has put a great deal of distinction and elegance into his portraits of the due de Nemours and Mme. WilHam HaussouUier. For the rest. has done a romantic bust of Cordelia. ® This conclusion is taken up and developed in the closing sec® tion of the Salon of 1846. the true painter for whom we be he who can snatch its epic quahty from the life of today and can make us see and understand. except for the sudden. Forceville-Duvette and Millet are omitted here. . We are quite suEBciently choked by our true feelings for us to be able to know them. guilty of any serious on the whole. is at Versailles. unexpected and dazzling appearance of M.

it is just that those for who are but owners should aspire to become scholars. Very well. See . they are out of their minds. a draught both refresh- ing and cheering which restores the stomach and the to the natural equihbrium of the ideal. others are owners. you need art. Then your power will be complete. The aristocrats of thought. a glorious day will come when the scholars shall be owners and the owners scholars. intelligence. and the exercise of the five senses calls for a particular initiation which only comes about through good will and need. who say the contrary are mistaken. its function. the distributors of praise and blame. you gentlemen of the bour- exhibition opened on 16th March at the Mus^e Royal. The government of the city is in your hands. 2. knowledge is no less of an enjoyment than ownership. and that is just.THE SALON OF 1846i TO THE BOURGEOIS You ARE fore the majority— in number and is justice. You can live three never! and those of you days without bread—without poetry. But you must also be capable of feeling beauty. the monopolists of the things of the mind. for you are the force. and no man will protest against it. so not one of you has the right to do without poetry. and it is necessary that you should be worthy of that task. For you have in your hands the government of a city whose pubHc is the public of the universe. Baudelaire's review appeared as a booklet on 13th May. Enjoyment is a science. mind You understand *The pi. Art is an infinitely precious good. have told you that you have no right to feel and to enjoy— they are Pharisees. there- you are the force—which Some are scholars. for as not one of you today can do without power. Until that supreme harmony is achieved.

and just as in your politics you have increased both rights and benefits. then the remaining third should be occupied by feeling—and it is by feeHng alone that art is to be understood. You. they should be used for enjoyment and pleasure. You have combined together. . But the monopolists have forbidden you even to enjoy. as you do those of the law and of business. they would have asserted a truth at which you could not take offence. industrial and artistic. and they are infinitely jealous of it If they had merely denied you the power to create works of art or to understand the processes by which they are created. Some of those which sixteen years ago were only open to the monopolists have thrown wide their doors to the multi- That reverie tude.e. Truth. musemns and galleries. But the monopolists have decided to keep the forbidden fruit of knowledge from you. And as for your leisure hours.2 which anyway For ' i. for all its multiplicity. is the natural enemy of art.TO THE BOURGEOIS geoisie—whether lawgivers or 39 the business-men—when seventh or the eighth hour strikes and you bend your tired head towards the embers of your arm-chair. art to allow oneself to be outstripped in and in the Republicans. the bourgeois—be you king. And yet it is just that if two thirds of your time are devoted to knowledge. because you do not understand the technique of the arts. because public business and trade take up three quarters of your day. and it is in this way that the equilibrium of your soul's forces will be estabhshed. so in the arts you have set up a greater and more abundant communion. you have formed com- panies and raised loans in order to realize the idea of the future in all its varied forms— pohtical. In no noble enterprise have you ever left the initiative to the protesting and suffering minority . of your hearth or the cushions is the time when a keener desire and a more active would refresh you after your daily labours. is not two-faced. because knowledge is their counter and their shop. lawgiver or businessman—have founded collections.

then you are happy. and for a majority to commit for suicide is impossible. 2-3. At once the reproaches the critic with being unable neither to since it is to teach anything to the bourgeois. who wants itself. satisfied and well-disposed. paint nor to write verses— nor even to art from the " womb of art that criticism was born. for France. you have done is The Spanish Museum^ there to in- possess about art. you claim back your payment in enjoyments of the body. When you have given to society your knowledge. your labour and your money. If you recover the amount of enjoyments which is needed to establish the equiHbrium of all parts of your being. so a foreign museum is an international communion where two peoples. And so it is to you. the bourgeois. that this book is naturally dedicated. your industry. . because you are some of you rich men and the others scholars. happy and well-disposed when it has found its own general and absolute equilibrium. for you ought to you know perfectly well that just as a national museum is a kind of communion by whose gentle influence men's hearts are softened and their wills unbent. 1st May 1846 WHAT What which in the is IS THE GOOD OF CRITICISM? the seizes the critic first good?—A vast and terrible question-mark by the throat from his very first step sits chapter that he artist down to uTite.40 politics is to THE SALON OF 1846 commit suicide. You are the natural friends of the arts. See pp. the reason and the imagination. And what you have done other countries too. can penetrate one another's mind and fraternize crease the volume of general ideas that without discussion. observing and studying one another more at their ease. for any book which is not addressed to the majority— in number and intelligence— is a stupid book. as society will be satisfied.

Thus the best account of a picture may weU be a sonnet or an elegy.* the studio. and voluntarily strips itself of every shred of temperament. I hope that the philosophers will understand say. lean. but it is neither very broad nor very just. seeing that a fine picture is nature reflected by an artist. ) . there perhaps that the real re- have seen a Gavarni which shows a painter bending over his canvas. pubHc and the artist will find nothing to learn here. Its taste is in the highest degree rational and sublime! ( c. mathematical criticism which. that is why it will always recommend drawing to colourists. criti- cism should be say. 1839. But. Regarding technical means and processes taken from the works themselves. If art is noble. 3. or colour at the expense of line. I sincerely believe that the best criticism is that is which both amusing and poetic: not a cold. but a point of view that opens up the widest horizons.'^ If the artist plays the leading role so easily. published in Le Charivari. holding his latest article will You in his hand. To extol line to the detriment of colour. 4 of Gavami's series of lithographs entitled Legons et Conseils. * No. *I know quite weU that criticism today has other pretensions.b. it is doubtless because his critic is of a type which we know so well. As for criticism properly so-called. has neither love nor hate. 27 Nov. and colour to draughtsmen. criticism is holy. But this kind of criticism is destined for anthologies and readers of poetry. is doubtless a point of view. behind him stands a grave. on the pretext of explaining everything. what its I am going to is To be just. stiflF gentleman. and it indicts its holder of a great ignorance of individual destinies. Things like that are learnt in the and the pubhc is only concerned about the result. See pi. passionate and pohtical. written partial. the criticism which I approve will be that picture reflected by an intelligent and sensitive mind.WHAT And proach yet IS THE GOOD OF CRITICISM? artists is 41 how many today owe to the critics alone their sad Kttle fame! It lies. that is to say. that to from an exclusive point of view. —'Who says that?'— 'The critics '. to justify existence. in a white cravat.

156 (edition of 1859. see the article on William HaussoulHer. in the Salon of 1845 (pp. Stendhal's phrase is 'de la morale construite'. As every age and every people has enjoyed the expres- sion of its own beauty and ethos— and to if. Thus a broader point of view will be an orderly individualism—that is. the most modem expression of beauty— then. and he explains that he is using tlie past participle in the geometric . but it is necessary to understand the article. Stendhal has said somewhere 'Painting 'ethics' in a nothing but a construction in ethics 1'^ If you will understand the word more or less hberal sense. nor by what mysterious processes she manipulates that fusion whose result is a picture. n. or the various aspects of the absolute— so there is never a moment when criticism is not in contact with metaphysics.b. And as the essence of the arts always the expression of the beautiful through the feeUng. In spite of all the rebukes that I have suffered on this subject. 338. 2). without temperament is not worthy of painting pic- tures. 8— 11 ).) » ' See p. for a critic does not cease to be a man. you can say is as much of all the arts. Histoire de la Peinture en Italie. (c. 123. and passion draws temperaments is to- gether and exalts the reason to fresh heights. the passion and the dreams of each man— that is to say a variety within a unity. above of eclectics— he would do one of better to enter the service of a painter of temperament. for the reasonable * With reference to the proper ordering of individualism. ch.42 THE SALON OF 1846 You cannot know in what measure Nature has mingled the taste for hne and the taste for colour in each mind.^ The critic criterion. aided by every means which his technique provides. to require of the artist the quaHty of naivete and the sincere expression of his temperament. by romanticism^ and you are prepared understand the most recent. and— as we are wearied of imitators and. a criterion should arm himself from the start with a sure drawn from nature. as a humble workman.* artist An all. I shall demonstrate this in my later chapters. I persist in my opinion. p. and should then similar carry out his duty with passion.

But to call oneself a romantic and to look systematically at the past is to contradict oneSome blasphemed the Greeks and the Romans in the name of romanticism: but you can only make Romans and Greeks into romantics if you are one yourself. Rochette the first is to expose yourself to a flat contradiction if from comer he is more learned than M. and local colour. it is because few of them discovered romanticism. sought to reflect but they had not the temperament for their subjects. important positions. though all of them sought it sincerely and honestly. to compose a tragedy or a picture to the requirements of M. Many others have been misled by the idea of truth in art. Others. the quality of naivete—the greatest possible amount of ro- manticism. a Catholic society. and published who many books on held several his subject . you will see that if few romantics have survived.1 Romanticism is precisely situated neither in choice of subjects nor in exact truth. the great artist will be he who will combine with the condition required above— that is. but in a mode of feeling. Realism had already existed for a long time when that great battle took place.WHAT passionate IS ROMANTICISM? 43 critic. Raoul Rochette. WHAT Few IS ROMANTICISM? people today will want to give a real and positive meaning to this word. Some still applied themselves only to the choice of subjects. Raoul self. believing in Catholicism in their works. it They looked for it outside themselves. and besides. but was only to be found within. ^A well-known archaeologist (1789-1854). and yet will they dare assert that a whole generation would agree to join a battle lasting several years for the sake of a flag which was not also a symbol? If you think back to the disturbances of those recent times.

* is by the philosophy of progress. is all for nature. plunged in As for the painters of Spain. where Stendhal wrote 'La beaute est Texpression d'line certaine maniere . the latest ex- pression of the beautiful. There art belongs to the open air. in return. Romanticism is tlie most recent. England— that home all of fanatical colourists. as there ethics. to get to know those aspects of nature and those human situations which technique that the artists of we the past have disdained or have not known. religion. Does it surprise you that colour should play such a very important part in modern art? Romanticism is a child of the North. .44 THE SALON OF 1846 For me. without question the most intolerable of all forms. Venice herself lies steeped in her lagoons. To is. but in a conception analogous to the ethical disposition of the age. There are as many kinds of beauty as there are habitual ways of seeking happiness. colour. .' habituelle de chercher le bonheur in ch. dreams and fairytales are bom of the mist. first and foremost. infinite. ( c. Thus it is necessary. for there nature is left so beautiful and bright that nothing for man to and he can find nothing more beautiful to invent than what he sees. have been as many ideals as there have been ways in which the peoples of the earth have understood This clearly explained thus. love. they are painters of contrast rather than colourists. is to say modem art— that the intimacy.. expressed by every means available to the Thence it follows that there is an obvious contradiction between romanticism and the works of its principal adherents. so romanticism will not consist in a perfect execution. and the North is all for colour. say the word Romanticism spirituaHty. aspiration towards arts. The is South.b. but several hundred leagues to the north you will find the deep desire. ) Baudelaire seems to have in mind a footnote 110 of the Histoire de la Peinture en Italie. . Flanders and half of France are fog. * Stendhal. etc. It is because some have located it in a perfection of have had the rococo of romanticism.

but a harmonizer. I should Hke to give you a series of reflections on colour. and of latent heat allow where the workings is everything in a state of perpetual vibration often green. suffer continual alteration through the transposition of light. shadow and no rest. Raphael. it is the and the moss are green. and if it turns to sculpture. the North. 45 of the fancy lost in hori- is as brutal and positive as a sculptor even in most delicate compositions. sea. and how The South his matchless his romanticism. red. extends to the confines of the sky. realize our dearest if a powerful colourist could for us in a colour dreams and feelings to appropriate to their subjects! But before passing on an examination of the man who up to the present is the most worthy representative of ro- manticism. How novel then would be the effect.ON COLOUR dreams of the studio and the gaze zons of grey. but which causes lines to tremble and fulfils the law of eternal and universal movement. which will not be without use for the complete understanding of this little book. for all his purity. where all things. the tree-trunks are snaked with green. it will more often be picturesque than classical. but that scoundrel Rembrandt is a sturdy idealist who makes us dream and guess at what lies beyond. but the second shakes his rags before our eyes and tells us of human sufferings. variously coloured in accordance with their molecular structure. in ON COLOUR Let us suppose is full a beautiful expanse of nature. where there Hcence for everything to be as green. the grass The . dusty or it iridescent as wishes. is but an earthly spirit ceaselessly investigating the solid. An immensity which is sometimes blue. and the unripe stalks trees are green. seeks comfort with the imagination. suffering and restless. The first composes creatures in a pristine and virginal state—Adam and Eve. And yet Rembrandt is not a pure colourist.

—red sings the glory of green.b. which is an their qualities own * Except for yellow and blue. The blue—that the sky— is cut across with airy flecks of white or with grey masses. each transparent object picks up light and colour as it passes from nearby or afar. there is a flower- ing of mixed tones. and colours are put to concessions. nature seems like a spinning-top which revolves so rapidly that it appears grey. or extinguished altogether. parrots. Soon vast blue shadows are rhythmically sweeping before them the host of orange and rose-pink tones which are like a faint and distant echo of the light. they combine and recombine in an infinite series of melodious marriages which are thus made more easy for them. flight before them. This great symphony of today. black (where it and insignificant cipher) is. intercedes on behalf of blue or red.46 are green. tones change their values. trees. its progenitors: but I am only speaking here of pure colours. and by modifying with a glaze of transparent. and as the vaporous atmosphere of the season—winter or summer—bathes. may wish to bring fresh ones to life. Some colours cast back their reflections upon one another. (c. When the great brazier of the sun dips beneath the waters. although it embraces within itself the whole gamut of colours. borrowed qualities. they continue to Hve in harmony by making reciprocal Shadows slowly shift. itself shifting. green that THE SALON OF 1846 is nature's ground-bass. a harmony of blood flares up at the horizon. The sap rises. because green marries easily with first all the other colours. rocks and granite boulders gaze at themselves in the water and cast their reflections upon them. According as the daystar alters its position. and as the principles mix. fanfares of red surge forth on all sides. which pleasantly temper its bleak crudeness. but.) . For this rule cannot be applied to transcendent colourists who are tlioroughly acquainted with the science of coimterpoint. and green turns richly crimson.* it What strikes me of all is everywhere—whether exists— a soHtary be poppies in the grass. always respecting their natural sympathies and antipathies. softens or enguHs the contours. etc. pimpernels. according as the Hght.

carried out with a lens. green. would fuse naturally in accordance with the law which governs them. warmed by a touch of yellow— a harmony which. whose difficulties more or less boil down to the copying of a plaster-cast. you will an object of medium dimensions— for example. which are pinker and more wine-coloured. so long as they were logically juxtaposed. Colour is thus the accord of two tones. with skin of the finest—you will see that there harmony between the green of the strong veins with which it is ridged and the ruby tints which mark the rosy. a woman's hand. within however small an area.ON COLOUR eternal variation of the 47 cession of melodies infinite. For if you admit that every molecule is endowed with its ov\ai particular tone. pink nails stand out against the topmost. the life-lines. I merely wished to prove that ff the case were possible. which are characterized by several grey and brown tones. orange and white tones. this symphony of yesterday. do not wish to conclude from all this that a coloinist should proceed by a minute study of the tones commingled in a very limited space. this sucwhose variety ever issues from the In If coloiu: are to complex hymn is called colour. any number of tones. theory resides. produces the coloiuist's type of modelling. As for the palm of the hand. all Warmth and coldness of tone. are separated one from another by the system of green or blue veins which run across them. blue. in whose opposition relative sense. be found harmony. a perfect harmony of grey. A study of the same object. which is essentially different from that of the draughtsman. can- not be defined in an absolute manner. it is important to concern oneself above all with masses. as art is nothing but an abstraction and a sacrifice of detail to the whole. when combined with shadows. is perfect knuckles. it would follow that matter should be infinitely divisible. slender. . they only exist in a The I lens is the colourist's eye. brown. and besides. will afford. melody and counterexamine the detail within the detail in point.joints.

for with Nature. he would secure a false tone. The air plays such an important part in the theory of colour that if a landscape-painter were to paint the leaves of a tree just as he sees them. but logical. its already has a meaning and has already taken place in your store of memories. the results of mixtures and the whole science of counterpoint. or over-all colour. Falsifications are continually necessary. If it is melodious. everything allowed him. the force of tone. it is a whole. . form and colour are one.48 Chemical not THE SALON OF 1846 affinities are the grounds whereby Nature can- make mistakes in the arrangement of her tones. because from birth he knows the whole scale of tones. Most of our young colourists lack melody. and thus he can produce a harmony of twenty different reds. and how the study of nature often leads to a result quite different from nature. considering that there is a much smaller expanse of air be- tween the spectator and the picture than between the spectator and nature. unity within colour. Thus melody leaves a deep and mind. the thick and transparent varnish of the atmosphere and the learned eye of Veronese between them would put the whole thing right and would produce a satisfying ensemble on canvasconventional. and choice comes from temperament. even in order to achieve a trompe-Voeil. no doubt. This explains how a colourist can be paradoxical in his way of expressing colour. This is so true that if an anti-colourist landowner took it into his head to repaint his property in some ridiculous maimer and in a system of cacophonous colours. The right way to know if a picture is melodious is to look at it from far enough away to make it impossible to understand it its subject or to distinguish its lines. calls for a cadence. Harmony Melody Melody is is the basis of the theory of colour. is No more can the true colourist make mistakes. in which every lasting impression in the effect contributes to a general effect. Style and feeling in colour come from choice.

Delacroix's colour is often plaintive. for example.) It is the third of the detached observations entitled Hochst zerstreute Gedanken. but there are such things as happy touches. * Kreisleriana. but passage in Hoffmann which expresses any analogist has ever estabhshed a I remember a my idea perfectly and which is will appeal to all those who sincerely love nature: It not only in dreams. rich and sad. The quaHty of pure draughtsmanship consists above all in precision. It makes me fall into a deep reverie. commonplace and original. Yes and no. It seems to me that by one and the same ray of light. see pp. it afiforded my eyes a delicious pain. which proceeds above all by ensemble and by mass. (c. and the colourist who undertakes to express nature through colour would often lose more by suppressing his happy touches than by studybetween all colours. The smell of red and brown marigolds above all produces a magical effect on my being.'* It is often asked if the same man can be at once a great colourist and a great draughtsman. and that their combination must result in a wonderful concert of harmony. but it does exclude the meticulous drawing of detail.ON COLOUR 49 Colours can be gay and playful. and this precision excludes touch. where touch will always eat away hne. * On Catlin. rich and gay. sounds these things were created ing a greater austerity of drawing. but even awakened when that perception of an analogy I hear music— and an intimate connexion and perfumes. Certainly colour does not exclude great draughtsmanship —that of Veronese. Catlin^ is often terrible. Thus Veronese's colour is tranquil and gay. deep tones of the oboe in the distance. For a long time I lived opposite a drinking-shop which was crudely striped in red and green. the contour of the tiny fragment. or in that mild delirium which preit is cedes sleep. . playful and sad. 72-3. in which I seem to hear the solemn. for there are different kinds of drawing. I do not know if complete scale of colours and feeHngs. and that of M.b.

because a long time ago—from his very first work. dialecticians. of colourists is like that of nature. and place before the eyes of the public certain documents of the case which have aheady been cited by earHer critics and historians. IV EUGENE DELACROIX Romanticism and colour lead me croix. the effects of these things— and they even compel call for the themselves not to see them. I straight to Eugene Dela- do not know ff he is proud of his title of 'romantic'. but one of these quahties always engulfs the detail It is thus possible to of the other. be at once a colourist and a draughtsman. and I am purposely selecting my newest pens. As I enter upon this part of my work. but which are . in fact— the majority of the public placed him at the head of the modern school. so great is my desire to be clear and limpid. The draughtsmanship sion of coloured masses. Exclusive draughtsmen act in accordance with an inverse procedure which is yet analogous. But in order to make the conclusions of this chapter properly intelligible.50 THE SALON OF 1846 The love of air and the choice of subjects in movement employment of flowing and fused lines. I must first go back some Httle distance in the history of this period. in order to avoid offending the dogma of their school. With their eyes fixed upon tracking and surprising their line in its most secret convolutions. so happy do I feel to be addressing my dearest and most sympathetic subject. Just as a draughtsman can be a colourist in his broad masses. my heart is full of a serene joy. but only in a certain sense. but his place is here. so a coloiirist can be a draughtsman by means of a total logic in his linear ensemble. colli- their figures are naturally bounded by a harmonious Pure draughtsmen are philosophers and Colourists are epic poets. they have no time to see air and Hght— that is to say.

ill-advised—might perhaps criticize it for a lack of nobiHty. you will yet find a severity of taste.^ and which is quite dif- ^Adolphe Thiers (1797-1877). are clingis doomed ing to the boat: one clutching at it in vain. * In the Louvre. that burst of dawning mastery which revives our hopes. see pi. Enfers. my opinion no picture is a clearer revelation of future Dante et Virgile aux you can recognize that spurt of talent. was at that time at the very outset of his career. * Vimagination du dessin. and. Nevertheless. It is painted with a broad. already a trifle dashed by the too moderate worth greatness than Delacroix's all M. *In M. the author of this picture has another. Dante. hke himself. I do not think that true admirers of Eugene Delacroix will feel anything but a keen pleasure in re-reading an extract from the Constitutionnel of 1822. wears the colours of death. which one might almost call 'the graphic imagination'. is 'Apart from that poetic imagination which common both to painter and writer. firm brush. a propriety of setting. The hapless throng. In a subject which borders so closely on exaggeration. pictured alive. crowned with gloomy : laurel. two others are gripping There you have at the elusive timber all with their the egoism of misery. thrown backwards by his precipitate effort. they cleave their way with difficulty through the mob which swarms round the barque in order to clamber aboard. 'Dante and Virgil are being ferried across the infernal stream by Charon. . and its colour is simple and vigorous. teeth. another has hold. eternally to crave the opposite bank. though stern judges— in this case. and is kicking back those who.EUGENE DELACROIX 5I necessary to complete my demonstration. later famous as statesman and historian. taken from the Salon of Thiers. bears the dreadful taint of the place Virgil. plunges once more into the waters. if a trifle raw. so to say. are struggling to get on board.! joumaMst. 63. the despair of Hell. artistic imagination. which enhances the design.^ Here above of all the rest.

1 do not believe that I am mistaken when I say that M. Some of strange recollection of the great masters seized hold of me at the sight of this picture. but natural—which yields without own impulse . . He throws his figures on to the canhe groups and bends them at will. Delacroix has been given genius. . If. Guerin. Gu6rin (a man of great worth. the rage.52 THE SALON OF 1846 ferent from the vas. According to Silvestre (Histoire des artistes p. like his master David) there was only a small group of pariahs who devoted themselves in secret to the old masters and who dared shyly to conspire beneath the wing of Raphael and Michelangelo. the shouts of praise and of abuse. the enthusiasm and the peals of offensive laughter which beset this fine picture (a true signal of revolution)—you must remember that in the studio of M. with the boldness Michelangelo and the abundance of Rubens. . the young Thiers must have struck him as a trifle mad. and let him take still further confidence I when is I say that the opinion which am expressing here shared by one of the great A. . to it. effort to its ardent. There was as yet no question of Rubens. let him devote himself to immense tasks. first. masters of the school. the dimibf oundedness.'^ T is . Let him for^vard this assurance. 62). this was Gerard. rs These enthusiastic paragraphs are truly staggering. To obtain a proper idea of the profound confusion into which the picture of Dante and Virgil must have thrown contemporary minds— of the amazement. as much as to be pre- sumed. who was harsh and severe towards his young pupil. the editor of the joiunal had pretensions himself as a connoisseiUL of painting. M. who was back from Italy (where he was said Florence) vivants. but a despot and absolutist. . an indispensable condition of talent. have renounced several of his almost original quahties before the great frescoes of * Rome and com1856. only looked at the picture because of the clamour that raged around G^ricault. for their precocity as for their boldness. once more I found that power—wild.

cried 'A painter has just been revealed to us.b. . Thiers and in front of the Pestiferes Gerard! It is doubtless a lengthy interval that separates the Dante from the paintings in the Palais Bourbon. endowed with such courage and such passion. in the close Now that the Sosthenes de la Rochefoucauld. and the Bordeaux Museum. was more a wit than a painter. in the Louvre. pi. and. Painted in 1827: first exhibited the following year.^ It was in front of this painting. sent for Eugene Delacroix. de Scio* that Gerard himself. and the most curious events and and Virgil the biography of revolutions take place beneath the firmament of the skull. man had been duly revealed and was continuing to reveal himself more and more (in the allegorical picture La Grece.) The picture is now in the Louvre. told him that of so rich ^ was vexing that a man an imagination and so fine a talent. even academic disdain found itself forced to take this new genius into account. and now that the contagion of the new gospel was spreading from day to day. (c. Painted in 1827. For a man Hke this. who. Journal.). horizons need not be vast for battles to be important.^ La Liberie.^ etc. some time afterwards.EUGENE DELACROIX 53 plimented the new and still bashful painter so warmly that he was almost overcome. * write pestiferes instead of massacre in order to explain to the those flesh-tones to which they have so often and so stupidly objected. but he is a man who runs along the roof-tops!'— To run along the roof-tops you need a firm step and an eye illumined by an interior light. as it seems.^ but Eugene Delacroix is poor in incident. pi. the most interesting struggles are those which he has to maintain against himself. and mysterious laboratory of the brain. 8. Journal. It was painted in 1824. One fine day M. or. repro. Let glory and justice be accorded to MM. I critics " "^ On which Delacroix was still engaged in 1846. more- Gericault is elsewhere recorded as saying that it was a picture that he would have been glad to have signed himself. and ® now in * now now in the Louvre. repro. then Directeur des BeauxArts. 13. after lavishing it com- pliments upon him. and Painted in 1830. a man.'^ Sardanapalus.

even. people used often to compare Eugene Delacroix to Victor Hugo. that loyal and obliging servant of genius. and could comprehend antique beauty in the sight of a race pure of all base-breeding and adorned with health and the free development of its muscles. He had to wait for 1830. with one or two noble exceptions. of confusion. . Generally speaking. and these ministerial repHed with almost a parody of rage that evidently if he painted thus. pure chance. Meanwhile M. for him. even the praises of his admirers must often have seemed offensive to him. it was because he had to and because he could not paint otherwise. Criticism. there he could study at leisure both man and woman in their independence and native originaHty of movement. He fell into complete disgrace and was cut off from any kind of official work for seven years. and for those gentlemen who form the majority of the public. They had their romantic poet. Eugene Delacroix. 64. Thiers had written a new and very lofty article in Le Glohe?-^ A journey to Morocco^^ seems to have left a deep impression on his mind. " Painted and now in the Louvre. Up to the present. they needed their painter. and ^° this one proves once again how Httle people knew what On the Salon of 1824.54 over. he asked him once and for all if it would not be possible for him to modify his manner. and for most people. Eugene Delacroix has met wdth injustice. of turbulence. The composition of The Women of Mgiers^^ and a mass of sketches probably date from this period. should not be prepared to add a little water to his wine. has been bitter and ignorant. This necessity of going to any length to find counterparts and anapart in his happiest compositions. to mention Eugene Delacroix is to throw into their minds goodness knows what vague ideas of ill-directed fire. plays an important unhappy period was speaking a moment ago and whose numerous errors I have recorded. vastly surprised at this quaint condition counsels. In that of revolution of which I logues in the different arts often results in strange blunders. of hazardous inspiration. "In 1832. in 1834. see pi. to THE SALON OF 1846 whom the government was favourably disposed.

sometimes clumsy. Let us be done with these rhetorical ineptitudes once and for all. is a workman far more adroit than encumber many feeble much more correct than creative. the green lions of the Institut would murmur 'Thou shalt enter these portals'. Victor Hugo. The parallel has en- dured in the banal realm of accepted preconceptions still ideas. and these two brains.EUGENE DELACROIX 55 they were about. him * By the naivete of the genius you must understand a complete knowledge of technique combined with the yvudi ceavrov of the Greeks. Without any doubt the comparison must have seemed a painful one to Eugene Delacroix. are poems— and great poems. M. but with knowledge modestly surrendering the leading role to temperament. He is in complete possession of. (c. for he takes so much pleasure in exhibiting his skiU that he omits not one blade of grass nor even the reflection of a streetlamp. on the contrary. M. In all his pictures. His works. I would be prepared to beheve that often. whose nobility and majesty I certainly have no wish to belittle. all the resources of antithesis and all the tricks of apposition. all the modulations of rhyme. to make a careful comparison between the productions of these two artists. The latter in his works throws open immense vistas to in prophetic tones. who handles his tools with a truly admirable and curious dexterity. In the works of the former there is nothing left to guess at. and coldly employs.b. is one of the keywords of this Salon. but he is essentially creative. naively* conceived and executed with the usual insolence of genius. I beg all those who have felt the need to create some kind of aesthetic for their own use and to deduce causes from their results. . With him even eccentricity takes symmetrical forms. M. and if we were still Hving in the time of fabulous marvels. ) The word naivete. Hugo was by nature an academician even before he was bom. spirituality and the rest) places Delacroix at its head. as he passed before their wrathinventive. both lyric and dramatic. if not to both of them. He is a composer of the decadence or transition. a labourer Delacroix is ful sanctuary. For Delacroix justice is more sluggish. Victor Hugo. Victor Hugo lets one see a system of uniform alignment and contrasts. used in this special sense. for if my definition of romanticism (intimacy. it naturally excludes M.

it has no more substance than the first. of A picture is a machine. A happy invention is the simple consequence of a sound train of reasoning whose intermediate deductions one may perhaps have skipped. and where an occasional fault in dravdng is sometimes necessary. in which everything justifies if existence. often. does not One starts with detail. so as to avoid sacrificing something more important. There is no pure chance in art. This intervention of chance in the business of Delacroix's painting is all the more improbable since he is one of those rare beings who remain original after ha\dng drunk deep . which causes an unusual coldness and moderation to hover above his poetry— qualities which the dogged and melancholy passion of the second. at grips with the obcertain us rather say a certain stinacies of his craft. without knowing it. and one as learned and as thoughtful as Delacroix. follows that one only captures the skin. and few people today remember his Hthographs after medals and engraved gems. Nothing is sillier or more impertinent than to talk to a great artist. while the other tears out the ennature. a poet in painting. where one tone of all the true wells. the preconception of pure chance. the yokes of all the great masters you would be quite astonished to see one of his studies after Raphael— patient and laborious masterpieces of imitation. any more than in mechanics. the other always permit him to retain. with an intimate underit standing of his subject. let first enjoys a detached egoism. always respectful of his ideal. is Delacroix. about the obligations which he may owe to the god of chance. is always plaimed to make the most of another. The cahnness. a good one.t has borne and shaken in turn. from which trails.^^ Not a few of "Delacroix made six such Hthographs in 1825. and whose indomitable individuality off . Too earth-bound. Victor Hugo has become to the superficies of a painter in poetry. just as a fault is the consequence of a faulty principle. As for the second preconception. its all whose systems the picture is of construction are intelligible to the practised eye. It quite simply makes one shrug one's shoulders in pity. too attentive M.56 to the THE SALON OF 1846 most adventurous imaginations. .

In fact.'^^ Now this is the principle from which Delacroix sets out— that a picture should first and foremost reproduce the intimate thought of the artist. the author of Recherches sur I'ltalie. and yet these forms were nowhere to be found in external nature. I believe that forms in nature. which was published translation in his French De la France. was published in three volin a umes between 1827 and 1831. and to maintain that the all his the artist cannot find plastic artist should find all his forms in nature. Forschungen. and that it should accompHsh the divine orders of the brain with a slavish alacrity. I am a supematuralist. but that the most remarkable are revealed to him in his soul. . and at the same instant. but one most fundamental— I mean architecture. of the preparation of the elements of his work. ^ From Heine's Salon of 1831. it is important that the hand should encounter the least possible number of obstacles when it gets down to business. and from this principle there emerges a second which seems at first sight to contradict it—namely that the artist must be meticulously careful concerning his material means of execution. like the innate symbology of innate ideas. A modem professor of aesthetics. and one that de- mands an immediate contention between a host of different quahties. 1833. A belated attempt has now been made to trace back the forms of architecture to the leafy branches of the forest and the rocks of the grotto. since painting is an art of deep ratiocination. Italienische von Rumohr (1785-1843). but rather in the soul of man.EUGENE DELACROIX 57 Here are a few lines from Heinrich Heine which explain Delacroix's method rather well— a method which. He professes a fanatical regard for the cleanliness of his tools and the plastic arts. The pro- fessor. "The reference is to Carl Friedrich his book. who dominates the model as the creator dominates his creation. otherwise the ideal will escape.^^ has tried to restore to honour the old principle of the imitation of nature. is the result of his tempera- ment: 'In artistic matters. in thus setting forth his ultimate principle of the had only forgotten one of those arts. Hke that of all robustly-framed beings.

This is a thing never dreamt of by those people who have jeered so much at Delacroix's draughtsmanship—particularly the sculptors. exhibit a slow. and his painting which issues above all from the memory. which is his searching intimacy with the subject. though endowed with a seeming indolence. has nothing to discuss with an artist whose chief preoccupations are movement. for example— always leaves a deep impression whose intensity increases v^dth distance. light and floating " Ingres' St. the spectator's soul picture analogous to the artist's means. it in 1824: Symphorian was commissioned for Autun cathedral was not completed until ten years later. Symphoriari^^ it was entirely re-painted several times. But travail is by no means the same thing as childbirth. The employment makes of a dominant note can only rightfully rest.58 THE SALON OF 1846 The process of conception of this great artist is no less and conscientious than his execution is nimble. These three elements necessarily demand a somewhat undecided contour. and hesitating to impair the vitality of his thought by the drudgery of a neater and more calligraphic execution. Ingres. Sculpture. whose judgement is worth no more than half that of an architect. speaks above all to the memory. for Eugene Delacroix. to which colour is impossible and movement difiBcult. men more partial and purblind than they have a right to be. That is the reason why it is necessary to submit to the consequences of a grand passion (whatever it may be). take place at the expense of the sacrifices necessary. he rejoices in the full use of an inalienable originaHty. An excessive taste thing but varied extracts and masterpieces are never anyfrom nature. to accept the destiny of a talent. and not to try and bargain with genius. The effect produced upon is Nature. and at the outset contained far fewer figures. and these great princes of painting. St. serious marvellous agility in covering a canvas. Ceaselessly sacrificing detail to whole. This moreover is a quaUty which he shares with the painter whom public opinion has set at the opposite pole from him— I mean M. at the most. colour and atmosphere. A by Delacroix—Dante and Virgil. leaves he turns is a vast dictionary whose and consults with a sure and searching eye. .

Ingres. for. From Delacroix's point of it view be. Homer r Dante. exist.* The :uth great quaHty of the drawing of supreme artists of is movement. perhaps. But let more general one of the principal characteristics of the reat painter is his universaHty. as there are colour:—the exact or silly. ( c. arrange. is universal. atural but absurd. and for colourists.b. Take an epic poet. Now Eugene Delacroix randeur. The first is negative. and historical pictures of He alone. analogous to the mind and the temperalent of the artist. Delacroix is the only artist oday whose originality has not been invaded by the tyranlical system of straight lines. all equally well. as in he rainbow. uaHties. incorrect is by sheer force of reality. which is the noblest and and trangest. the second a naturalistic. lastly the third. imitate the eternal throbbings of nature. He has painted genrefull ictures full of intimacy. correct. ) ee p. In the same way. tiess at nature. but ideal- zed draughtsmanship— the draughtsmanship of a genius /ho knows how to choose. creative drawing the privilege genius. he will paint ner fruit than any speciaHst that you care to name. rebuke. his figures are always restless nd his draperies fluttering. 59 and boldness of touch. lines are never nything else but the intimate fusion of two colours. etc. if Rubens paints fruit.. a he line does not however tenuous it may who easing geometrician may always suppose thick enough seek contain a thousand others. a description. a narrative. like f is generally the domain is of the M. speech. . 51. an ode. Moreover there are several kinds f of drawing. Physiognomic drawing matical. in our unbelieving age has onceived religious paintings which were neither empty This is what M. and can afford to neglect nature—it realizes nother nature. and Delacroix never us pass on to an examination of still violates this atural law. Thiers called Timagination du dessin'.EUGENE DELACROIX ines. for example: he can write an idyll. the physiognomic and the naginative.

he is a complete painter. can they strike and sound the chords of reHgion. where it is now to be seen. Sebastian^^ had already testified to the seriousness and deep sincerity with which he can stamp them.60 and cold. who is supporting and soothing her anguish. fair and golden-haired. with her two arms extended horizontally in an access of despair. uniform green which suggests a tempest-ridden sea no less than massed boulders. One of the two figures. a complete man. is sobbing like the most pitiful characters in his Hamlet— a work with which. the first. religion into who make Eugene Delacroix seems to have suppressed the accessories in order not to damage the clarity of his idea. The group is spread out and disposed entirely against a background of a dark. nor pedantic. like THE SALON OF 1846 competition works. like all the great masters. mystical all or neo-Christian. this painting has no Httle aflfinity. Denis. Louis au Marais^"^ and look at his Pietd. Delacroix's Pietd was painted (in 1844) for the church of Saint-Denis-du-Saint-Sacrement. is an admirable mixture of science— that is to say. and who beheve that not until they have made themselves masters of the traditions and symbology of the early church. "Painted 1836 and bought for the . This masterpiece leaves a deep furrow of melancholy upon the mind. ^® Exhibited in 1827. But to explain what I declared a moment ago— that only Delacroix knows how to paint religious subjects— I would "Baudelaire is mistaken here. Paris. Go to St. But this was not the first time that he had tackled rehgious subjects. Of the two holy women. for. a mother's paroxysm of grief. still decked with jewels and tokens of luxury. This is easy to understand if you are prepared to consider that DelacroLX. is crouching convulsively on the ground. and of nawete— that is to say. like the works of of art those philosophers an archaistic science. His Agony in the Garden^^ and his St. moreover. like Michelangelo. This background is fantastic in its simphcity. and in now in the church of Saint-Paul-Saintchurch of Nantua. sinks more feebly beneath the enormous weight of her despair. in which the majestic Queen of Sorrows is holding the body of her dead Son on her knees. the other.

EUGENE DELACROIX have the spectator note that are nearly always those if 6l his most interesting pictures he chooses himself —namely. See pi. I remember a friend of mine—a lad of some merit. 1838-41. It was removed in 1855 in order to be shown at the Exposition Universelle. up to the end of the 17th century. and one which. and an aheady fashionable colourist. The Hemicycle^^ at the Beaux. the niceties of a loaded palette or in the dic- tionary of rules for a blood-soaked and savage desolation such as of hope. ture which makes a bad ceiling. So much for universaHty of feeling— and now for universaHty of knowledgel It is a long time since our painters unlearnt. . because of its very cathoHcity. Auvergne or the Rhine affect a stomach which is used to the pale violets of Medoc. so to speak. grants full liberty to the individual and asks no better than to be celebrated in each man's own language—so long as he knows anguish and is a painter. The original now hangs as a picture in the Louvre. ^Painted by Ingres in 1827 for the ceiling in one of the galleries of the Louvre. The Plafond d'Homdre^^ is a fine picthe genre called 'decoration'.Arts is a puerile. 61. clumsy work whose intentions contradict one another. subjects of fantasy—nevertheless the grave sadness of his talent is perfectly suited to our religion which is itself profoundly sad— a religion of universal anguish. It represents the most celebrated artists of all nations. too. one of those precocious young men who give promise aU their Hves. and who is far more academic than he himself believes—I resubjects whose member him vain calling this 'cannibal's painting'. which is only just offset by the sombre green This terrible hymn to anguish affected his classical imagination in just the same way as the formidable wines of Anjou. it is hardly more than a collection of historical portraits. and some years later was replaced by a copy. Most of the chapels exe- cuted in recent times and distributed among the pupils of Ingres were done according to the methods of the Italian ^ Painted by Paul Delaroche. It is perfectly true that our yoimg friend will look in among this.

without tyrannically catching the eye. We were still a Httle distant from it. when occupied that place. There the Hght is dispensed economically. nevertheless evades the diflBculties. they aim at achieving unity by the sup- and by a vast system of softened which is doubtless more reasonable. who are these. Eugene Delacroix had decorations to paint. perhaps. the great problem. and he has chosen the passage where Dante and Virgil meet with the principal poets of antiquity in a mysterious place: Dante. can challenge in his mind. painters produced decorations of dazzling brilliance. Luxembourg . XV and XVI. yet not so distant that I did not in part discern what honourable people Our way was not yet a fire my slumber. extraordinaiy tour We Luxembourg^^ which the painter has arrived not only at an even blander and more unified effect. though he was speaking. but passed the wood meanwhile. Under Louis XIV. the invariable decoration for a Hbrary.6a primitives— that THE SALON OF 1846 is. He discovered pictorial unity without doing hurt to his trade as a colourist. but they lacked unity in colour and composition. whom We ceased not to go. "* at the Delacroix was nearing tlie end of his work at die time tliat this was written. irresistible taste for Eugene Delacroix has yielded to his Shakespeare alone. of far since crowded spirits. I saw which conquered a hemisphere of the darkness. while suppressing nothing of the quahties of colour and Hght which are the characteristic feature of all his pictures —but he has gone further and revealed himself in an altocircular ceiling in the Hbrary of the is The a still more astonishing work. the wood. have the Palais Bourbon^^ to bear witness to this de force. and he solved pression of effects of Hght colourings. This method. 'O thou that honourest every science and art. I say. who have such honour that it separates them from the manner of the rest?' '"^ Delacroix made twenty allegorical paintings for the library of the Chambre des Ddputes between 1838 and 1847. and it spreads evenly across all the figures. in gether new guise: Delacroix the landscape-painter! Instead of painting Apollo and the Muses.

which embraces an enormous area. who comes before the three as their lord: that is Homer. I am con- centrating above breathes. so that I was a sixth amid such intelligences. great Poet! His shade returns that Meanwhile a voice was heard by me: 'Honoxn: the was departed/ After the voice had paused and was silent. The good Master began to speak: 'Mark him with that sword in hand. and my Master smiled thereat. they do me honour. 64 sqq. and therein they do well. It is impossible to express in prose all the blessed cahn which it and the deep harmony which imbues its atmosphere. I saw four great shadows come to us. which is nevertheless no more than an accessory—such is the universality of the great masters I—is a thing of the greatest importance. upon the spirit of this painting. for they made me of their number. the next who comes is Horace the satirist. His talent all is above these things. and brings to life aU the memories which the mind has ever gathered from tales of Elysium. the sovereign poet. gains favour in Heaven which thus advances them*. is painted with the assurance of a history-painter. the landscape. they turned to with a sign of salutation. and the last is Lucan. or for having placed his figures upright upon it. which in that life of thine. . This circular landscape. After they me had talked a space together. Because each agrees with me in the name which the one voice sounded. and the delicacy and love of ^ Dante. 11.EUGENE DELACROIX And he them to 63 glorifies me: 'The honoured name.^* I shall not pay Eugene Delacroix the insult of an exaggerated panegyric for having so successfully mastered the concavity of his canvas. canto iv. Inferno. It makes you think of the most luxuriant pages of Telemaque.' Thus I saw assembled the goodly school of that lord of highest song. And greatly more besides they honoured me. who like an eagle soars above the rest. they had an aspect neither sad nor joyful. Ovid is the third. From the point of view at which I took up my position a short while ago.

serried and logical. painters glue their lovers' italicized (by Baudelaire) is an exact verbal echo from Fenelon's description of Cal)'pso's island ( Teleinaque. Unfortunately the brilliant daylight which will burst through the great window of the fagade. with her hands laid on the shoulders of her lover. 1). Delacroix's painting it like nature. Delacroix's pictures this year are The Abduction of Re- becca. "In 39. is or in a movement throwing back her head as though to draw breath. superior to the Veronese. pi.64 THE SALON OF 1846 Clumps it a painter of landscape. in water-colour. a With almost all painters who are not colour- you will always great holes produced be noticing vacuums. Romeo and Juliet^" are shown on the balcony. has a horror of a vacuum. the clouds. repro. taken from Ivanhoe. Even Bonington's is water-colours are less transparent. is the perfect ordering of its colours. pleasure?^ The sky of the sky recedes to a prodigious height. are of a wonderful airiness. as soon as will it is cleared of its tarpaulins and scaffolding. uniform sunlight slumber on the greensward. . Marguerite in Church. ists. pools of gentle. This unall wonted attitude— for almost ^ The phrase Bk. like a piece of gauze being rent. in finest of my opinion. holding one another devoutly clasped by the waist. patches of shade dissect form a perfect horizon for the eyes* is blue and white— an amazing thing with Delacroix. which are close-packed. that is to say by tones which are below the level is of the rest. needs a great tranquiUity of mind and a very gentle Hght to be properly comprehended. mountains. JuHet. *^ the Metropolitan Museum. This masterpiece. New York. which. The admirable thing about The Abduction is of Rebecca^^ intense. Journal. and A Lion. of laurel and considerable harmoniously. of pride and joyful passion. the Farewell of Romeo and Juliet. the result of this thrilling effect. so to speak. in the morning's cold radiance. 66. which are spun and drawn out in different directions. make this task more difficult. In the violence of this farewell embrace. See pi. and the deep and luminous vault blue or forest-girt.

is typical of dogs and cats in the a caress. whatever the painters may say. Delacroix has a fondness for Dante and Shakespeare. 308. Dante and Virgil. To complete this analysis. it is the unique and persistent melancholy with which all his works are imbued. ^Delacroix's Faust lithographs were first published in book form in 1828.^^ which have been so bitterly criticized. in gesture and in style of colour. Everyman ed. and able to translate them freely. vol. This scene. Sarpainters of human is anguish: he knows through.EUGENE DELACROIX lips 65 this together— is nevertheless perfectly natural. Water-colour is restricted here to its own modest role. The Massacre of Scio. it has no desire to rival oil-paint in stature. Escholier. of the vigorous movement thrill of neck it. II. quite beauty of drawing and attitude. and which is revealed in his choice of subject. in the expression of his faces. with the romantic landscape is which completes the dawn. and that which makes him the true painter of the nineteenth century. this is because it is painted with a great simpHcity. you might think that you were assisting at the celebration of some dolorous mystery. Between 1834 and 1843 Delacroix made sixteen lithographs of scenes from Hamlet. facing p. The water-colour Livn has apart from its a special merit for me. 135-6). two other great them through and As you look through the succession of his pictures. it only remains for me to note one last quaHty in Delacroix— but the most remarkable quahty of all. class of Marguerite in Church^^ belongs to that already numerous charming genre-pictures. and that it will be enough not to keep the public away from his works for him to be as much the interest which inspires. only already said elsewhere— that Delacroix so as inferior painters are. Goethe had seen some of them two years before.. pp. and spoke of them with great admiration to Eckermann (see Conversations of Goethe with Eckermann. . and it go to show what I have is popular. ^ Repro. enveloped in the purpHsh mists of The general success which this picture has achieved. by which Delacroix seems to be wanting to explain his Hthographs.

This aura of melancholy surrounds even The Women of Algiers. That little of an interior. even in his colour. repro. and gleaming with a sort of interior beauty. In by some strange and recurring accident. ^ Painted in 1841. Sebastian. 30. danapalus. 65. ^ The simile recurs in the stanza devoted to Delacroix in Baudelaire's poem Les Phares. where Baudelaire analyses this stanza. like that of all the great colourists. with her epitomized—for example. Almost all of them are sick.^^ The Shipwreck of Von }uan. Journal. so wrinkled and forlorn. and yet it is as plaintive and deeptoned as a melody by Weber. simple and abundant in harmonious masses. a figure in which all the surround- which was so much mocked several of them. and now in the Louvre. and now in the Lille Museum. See p. Generally speaking he does not paint pretty women—not at any rate from the point of view of the fashionable world. Thus Raphael has form. repro. in the foreground of the Crusaders at Constantinople.^^ and the Hamlet. pi. and now in the Louvre. ^ Painted in 1834. ^ Painted in 1840. 64.^^ most engaging and showy of his pictures. which he is often constrained to share with illustrious rivals. and now in the Louvre.66 THE SALON OF 1846 St. Rubens and Veronese that poem I ^ Painted in 1838. pi. 217.^^ Each one of the old masters has his kingdom. ^ Delacroix painted several versions of Hamlet and the Gravedigger: that of 1839 is in the Louvre.^^ or the old woman. which is broad. more crushed than the others. in The Massacre of Scio. Medea. 25. He is unrivalled at expressing not merely su£Fering. all silence and repose. but by nervous tension. He expresses physical force not by bulk of muscle. see pi. Christ in the Garden of Olives. . which quickly enough guides our thoughts towards the fathomless limbo of sadness. Journal. see pi. and crammed with rich stuffs and knick-knacks of the toilet. but above all moral suffering— and here lies the prodigious mystery of his painting This lofty and serious melancholy of his shines with a gloomy brilliance. the kneeling hair cast down. seems somehow to exhale the heady scent of a house of ill-fame. ing anguish is woman.^^ at and so misunderstood. his prerogative. you will find one figure which is more stricken.

expressed often through colour. and you wiU find that they have long followed the opposite method from mine. I know of scarcely any others but Frederick Lemaitre^^ and Macready. natural and living drama. ( 1800-1876 ) was one of the great French Romantic generation. Delacroix's only rivals are outside his art. In the matter of sublime gestures. and later created the title-role in Victor Hugo's Buy Bias. who vidll be able of to explain his secret to the historian's scrutiny. he has even surpassed them is in his this command of anguish.^''' It is because of is this entirely modem and novel quality art.EUGENE DELACROIX colour. There remained one province of the empire in which Rembrandt alone had carried out a few raids. but always through gesture. impassioned style greatly impressed the French when he acted in Paris in 1828 (twice) and again in 1844. His grand. the drama of terror and melancholy. that Delacroix the latest expression of progress in Heir to the great tradition— that is. I mean drama. that the baggage of one of the illustrious departed were to go astray. Delacroix's defects are at times so obvious that they strike the least You have only to open at random the first paper that comes your way. nobiHty and magnificence in composition— and a worthy successor of the old masters. to breadth. passion and gesturel It reaUy fact that establishes the importance of his greatness. what is the object of isolating faults of detail and microscopic blemishes? The whole is so fine that I have not the heart. he will almost always have his counterpart. 6/ Rubens and Michelangelo the 'graphic imagination'. the notable English tragedian of the same generation as Edmund Kean. and the great chain him and disclose But take away Delahistory is broken and slips to the ground. Sup- pose. Besides it is such an easy thing to do. He made his first great success as Robert Macaire in VAuherge des Adrets (1823). and so many to change others have done it! Is it not a pleasant view people from their good side? M. ^William Charles Macready (1793-1873). in persistently not seeing the glorious qualities which contrained eye. In an article which must seem more like a prophecy than a critique. ** Frederick Lemaitre actors of the . indeed. croix.

with M. generally speaking. and this sourness of taste is not without its charms. and this is perhaps a merit. we must regret the absence of M. this flaw —that it scarcely aims above picturesqueness is domain. this picture before. while Octavius's envoy stoops forward to gaze at her. Nevertheless the colom and the modelling of the torso are generally good. Nevertheless their colour has. which makes a somewhat unpleasant effect.^^ The composition consists of a single figure and a pike. is that the artist does not seem to be uniquely preoccupied v^dth colour. and 'effect'. Leger-Cherelle has sent Le Martyr e de Sainte Irdne. Cleopatra is dying. in spite of the terrible proximity of Delacroix.68 THE SALON OF 1846 Need I remind you that great geniuses stitute his originality. 18-19. and that they have the privilege of enormity in every direction? Among Delacroix's pupils there are some who have happily appropriated whatever elements of his talent could be cap- tured—that already is. never make mistakes by halves. whose Sainte Therdse^^ attracted the eyes of the connoisseurs at the last Salon—and of M. . Lassale-Bordes. too. But I rather think that shown the public variations. M. and by whom you can see some good ceilings at the Chambre des Pairs— and see them with pleasure. so to speak. *" Now in the Autun Museum. Planet. who has often given us broadly-coloured pictures. although they readily dispense with nature. ^ The note in the Salon catalogue runs ayant cache les as follows: 'Cette vierge.^^ by M. contre les ordres de I'empereur Diocletien. certain parts of his earned themselves method— and who have something of a reputation. fut mise en prison et percee d'une fleche' (Vies des Saints ) livres saints. Leger-Cherelle had aheady some minor A somewhat surprising feature of La Mort de Cleopdtre. 19. on her throne. One of her handmaidens has ^ See pp. Riesener. Its tints are. equivocal. see pi. without having earned the right to the ideal in their no sense do so by dint This year of their master's intrepid studies.

which are buried in libraries or lost in dealers' portfoKos— and sometimes also for the ill-humour which they cause you? It is a mixture of pleasure and pain. . or in a corner of a glazier's shop. Teresa's undirected aflFections down to the serious debaucheries of the ages of ennui. a vinegar for which the Hps are always athirstl The pleasure lies in your seeing represented in all its forms that most important of natural feelings— and the anger in often finding it so badly copied or so stupidly slandered. in the dog-days when the hours hang heavy. and it certainly contains something to please and attract the un- a daring simplicity. Cleopatra's head negress's green attached flaneur. in much the same way an obscene book sweeps us towards the mystical oceans of the deep. No doubt an immense distance separates Le Depart pour Tile de CytMre^ from the miseras ^ mind By Watteau. when faced with these countless samples of the universal feeling. you fall into a great spell of melancholy? And have you ever asked yourself the reason for the charm sometimes to be found in rummaging among these annals of lewdness. ON EROTIC SUBJECTS IN ART. from St. and the and pink attire contrasts happily with the colour of her skin. the sight of such drawings has often put my into enormous drifts of reverie. The composition does not majesty. the connoisseur and the philosopher could grant themselves the enjoyment of a Museum of Love. TASSAERT just expired at 69 lack her feet. as it has mine. that after spending long hours turning over a collection of bawdy prints. TASSAERT Has it ever been your experience.ON EROTIC SUBJECTS IN ART. where there would be a place for everything. This huge picture has been successfully carried through with no regard for imitation. Many times. and the painting has been executed with quite is beautiful. AND ON M. I have found myself wishing that the poet. AND ON M. Whether it has been by the fireside during the endless winter evenings.

and are admirable. Wat- . Let not the moralist be too alarmedl I shall know how to keep the proper bounds. scatter-brained merveilleuses which Watteau has bequeathed us in his fashion engravings. Watteau.) ** M.70 THE SALON OF 1846 hang above a cracked pot and a rickety able daubs which side-table in a harlot's room. all by genius. let me only a portrait. just as one can imagine them— great pale women.) The Grande Odalisque is in the Louvre (see pi. moreover. 62): the Petite Odalisque is presumably the Odalisque with Slave. my dream is Hmited to a wish for this immense poem of love as sketched by only the purest hands—by Ingres. but with a subject of such should be neglected. and besides. Besides. who has not devoted himself to * I have been told that many years ago Delacroix made a whole mass of marvellous studies of women in the most voluptuous attitudes. they would in no wise be soiled by that revolting obscenity. Ingres' Grande and Petite Odalisque are two pictures of our times which are essentially concerned with love.** In this immense museum I envisage the beauty and the love of all climes. and if these subjects were treated with the necessary care and reflection. (c. for his Sardanapalus. Ingres. Subjects of this nature are so important a thing that there is no artist. drowned in satin!* importance. son of Louis teau and nephew of Antoine Watteau. the resplendent pearls of Rubens and Jordaens and the sad beauties of Delacroix. be it so. nothing things are sanctified complete reassurance to the reader's say that I should class among erotic subjects not only all pictures which are specially concerned with love. Mass. down to Rembrandt's Venuses who are having their nails done and their hair combed with great boxwood combs.b. in tlie Fogg Art Museum. Delacroix! The playful and elegant princesses of Watteau beside the grave and composed Venuses of M. (c.b. ' Frangois Watteau (de Lille) (1758-1823). And to give startled virtue. expressed by the leading artists— from fils^ the mad. Rubens. Cambridge. small or great. just like simple mortals. but also any picture which suggests love. which is bravado rather than truth.

M. is a painter of the greatest merit. last year. but a silly. women. dressed as a man. ore ad puerilem formam composite. the other stretched out. The young woman is trying to lift her lover's skirt. Tassaert. the sofa of the furnished lodgings and the private apartment. whose feet have felt the rubbing of shoes. a little too pink perhaps. from Giulio In general their great defect Romano to Deveria is a lack of sincerity and remember. with one leg almost bent back. I d'esclaves. and his mistress. hae parum comptae sub puerorum veste. . who a colourist. a lithograph^ which expresses one of the great truths of wanton love— though imhappily without too much refinement. Alter veniebat sexus sub altero sexu. Tassaert. Corruperat omnis caro viam suam.b. secretly or in public.' Meursius. organized.* In the ideal museum of which I was speaking. are seated side by side on a sofa— the sofa which you know so well. for having painted this torso in too uniform a tone. disguised as a woman. These reflections have occurred to me in connection with two pictures by M. Tassaert—Engon^ and Le Marchand naivete. this lewd sheet would be counterbalanced by many others in which love would only appear in its most refined form. IN ART. AND ON M. Nevertheless is and the lines sinuous and expertly I would criticize M. and the body thrust forward. and one whose talent would be most happily applied Erigone is half recumbent upon a mound overshadowed with vines—in a provocative pose.ON EROTIC SUBJECTS and Gavami. a market of women awaiting One lady's of the series *Les Amants et les Epoux' by Tassaert. they are a little common. wtdch purported to be a Latin version (by Meursius) of a Spanish original. the drawing is fine. illi faeminio compti mundo sub stola. These are true civilized ^ The other picture represents women. however. TASSAERT 7I them. A young man. The * 'Sedebant in fomicibus pueri puellaeve sub titulis et lychnis. 4. (c.) This passage is quoted from Nicolas Chorier's Aloysiae Sygeae satira sotadica de arcanis Amoris et Veneris (1658). words are 'Ne fais done pas la cruellel' See pi. of whom I made the grave mistake of not to saying enough erotic subjects. sensual Turk is going to buyers.

British and Mexican territories. 52-3. and exhibited Washington. Waterloo Place. the impresario of the redskins. an outstanding artist. whose portrait Baudelaire mentions here. CatKn's collection is now in tlie care of the Smitlisonian In- stitution. bringing with him not only his paintings but several live Indians as well. See pis. a small selection was brought to Europe in 1954. and also Catlin's own Descriptive Catalogue. VI ON SOME COLOURISTS There ake two du dos de buffle. between 1829 and 1837. Catlin came to Paris. where he established himself at 6. . One of these was Shon-ta-yi-ga. English and French press. it contains appreciations from the American. curiosities of a certain importance at the of Graisse Salon. and when you think of whence he started. the word went round that he was a good ^George Catlin (1796-1872). a hat Rue Vivienne or at the Temple.72 buy them gauze. nevertheless he has managed to retain an original for colour. During this period he painted some five hundred portraits and other pictures of Red Indians. and then brought it to London. or Little Wolf. The poor girl has doubtless been carried off by pirates! The colour of this picture is remarkable in the extreme still in the One would its delicacy and transparency of tone. his talent has never ceased growing. The one who is seen from behind. with his Museum and his loways. the American artist. These are the portraits of Petit Loup and by M. whom only the fldneurs apand whom the public does not know well enough. there is reason to look forward to ravishing things from him in the He is preciate future. In 1845 he visited Paris. Tassaert has been studying Delacroix's manner. published by himself in London in 1848. THE SALON OF 1846 as superfine beauties. and whose buttocks are enveloped in a transparent bought wears upon her head a milliner's hat. and where he has arrived. See Alfred Delvau's Lions du Jour (1867). imagine that M.^ When M. spent eight years with Indian tribes residing in United States. Cathn. During 1838 and 1839 he toured his collection in the United States.

^ which not only retains 7 ( Repro. M. Catlin has captured the proud. vol. eternally green. or a blunder on the part of the journalists? For today it is established that M. M. I had been particularly struck by the transparency and Hghtness of his skies. and de- the landscapes—wooded mountains. free character and the noble expression of these splendid fellows in a masterly way. Achille Deveria has mous De profundis— against the conspiracy attracted special attention at this year s Salon by a picture. Was this an innocent trick of M. 1846). all Le Repos de ^ la Sainte Famille. serted rivers— were monotonously. gay and smiling)— singing their melodic antiphon in the very faces of these two heroes. Once again I find Red (so inscrutable and dense a colour. 56. With their fine attitudes and their ease of movement. This year has proved me right. the colour of blood. it was thanks only to his courage and his patience. I find in it an element of mystery which delights me more than I can say. and harder to penetrate than a serpent's eye)— and Green (the colour of Nature. calm. Red. . Turning to his colour. Many a precocious name which has been substituted for theirs is not yet worth as much. Illustr.ON SOME COLOURISTS 73 fellow who could neither paint nor draw. Catlin can paint and draw very well indeed. vast savannahs.— There is no doubt that all their tattooings and pigmentations had been done in accordance with the harmonious modes I of nature. the colour of in his life. these savages make antique sculpture comprehensible. These two portraits would be enough to prove it to me. p. flowed so abundantly gloomy Museum that it was like an intoxication. beheve that what has led the public and the journalists into error with regard to M. if I could not call to mind many other specimens equally fine. to which all our young men have so accustomed us that it has become the classic style of our time.. Catlin's. Catlin is the fact that his painting has nothing to do with that brash style. and that if he had produced some tolerable studies. Last year I already entered my protest against the unani- of ingratitudeconcerning the brothers Deveria. the structure of their heads is wonderfully well understood.

over and above this. but not enough to deserve even to be classed. is one of those excellent artists who have taken their nourishment from the old masters. « * Repro. M.. his Madeleine au desert is good and sound in colour— except for the flesh-tones which are a trifle dingy. Jordaens and several others have their part in it. is a Httle too uniform and offends the eye at nature. it is well organized and in general seems well is The tonahty. of painting— minor schools. In this interminable Salon. the eye is struck by its soft and harmonious appearance. In the great battle of Romanticism. but which also recalls the soHd qualities of the older schools which do not precisely sweep the board either by their drawing or their colour. Nevertheless designed. for in fact the Enghsh are almost alone in daring to paint genre-pictures of such vast proportions. but which. Illustr. healthy painting. Debon. and thus their place was marked out here. 7 ( 1846). nevertheless. Boissard. At first sight you search your memory for some historical scene which it can represent. . aU of doubtless based on an effect of colour after being whose features appear singularly crude in washed by the rains. Laemlein made a lithograph also of this subject. and where everyone can draw and paint a Httle. Achille Deveria's picture is excellent. Duveau has not sent it know if he has in Le Lendemain d'une tempete. whose beginnings were also brilliant and full of promise. the Deveria brothers were members of the sacred band of the colourists. but at least it is fine. M. The composition of M. but some parts of his picture give hopes of it. Perhaps his Concert dans V atelier^ is a Httle too artistic a picture— Valentin. Laemlein's Char it e"^ is a charming woman with a p. where differences have been more than ever wiped out. The pose is a happy one. by their sense of order and of sound tradition are placed well above the extravagances proper to transitional ages. 1 do him to become a frank colourist.74 THE SALON OF 1846 of that grace peculiar to these charming brother-geniuses. which first. and. perhaps. M. vol. it is a great joy to meet a frank and true painter Hke M. which marks its author as a man who is perfectly sure of himself. 121.

comical. lines. Their bodily nature and habits were always clearly revealed. M. for he possessed an extraordinary geniality. If he shirked linear detail too much. studied feHcity. used often to achieve powerfully effective results by means of a happy conflict of little tricks. yellow. and actually put tie seal upon his orientaHsm. If M. Normally he took his models in repose. for M. and his garment so deHghtful to the eye. This Httle mandarin never stops trotting through the memory. If there was a certain immobiHty in his drawing. and when they were shown running. and so his figures were always posed. that he practically monopolizes the spectator's attention. draped or dressed in accordance with the truth and with the eternal proprieties and habits of their persons. nevertheless. This artist. who is gifted with a marvellous capacity for analysis.ON SOME COLOURISTS 75 whole bunch of little brats of all countries—white. No one has seen large figures from his pencil. always kept him safe and sustained him on a superior plane. Decamps was not precisely a draughtsman in the generally accepted sense of the word. and nothing could be more legitimate. in his own way and in a particular fashion. It . they often reminded you of frozen shadows or of silhouettes suddenly halted in their course. nevertheless his meticulous above aU in her effects of Hght. almost of a caricaturist. it is that the little Chinaman is so pretty. Laemlein has a feeling for good colour. they ran as though they were part of a bas-relief. for many years now. but certainly the drawing—that is to say. he was one. black. the build— oi his Httle manikins was brought out and realized with remarkable boldness and taste for Nature. or mocking fancy. Decamps is one of those who. Decamps can make a figure intelligible in a few His sketches were diverting and profoundly was the draughtsmanship of a wit. have tyrannically possessed the public's interest. this was by no means unpleasing. which was a perfect match for the ironies of nature. often contenting himself with movement and general contour. and he will cause many people to forget all the rest. Certainly M. and if his drawing used occasionally to verge upon the chic. and so on—held by the hand or carried at the breast. If his picture contains one great fault.

most thoughtfully prepared kickshaws. Decamps his favourite colour was the great thing. but he had more style than they. mode of thought. Now M.76 THE SALON OF 1846 was his strong suit. a style very much of its own. a landscapepainter of the greatest merit. the most piquantly seasoned products of the kitchen. Decamps was a landscape-painter too. at other times his skies would suggest a loving memory of the skies of Claude. Decamps' pictures possessed for the lover of painting. so to speak. Certainly a hundred years from now historians will have trouble in identifying M. they say. for with him nothing was an accessor)'— so curiously \\TOught was every part of his canvas. For M. But his landscapes and his figures formed a single whole and helped one another mutually. that it was difficult to conceive its ancestry. The most appetizing dishes. and to such an extent was each detail planned to contribute to the total effectl Nothing was unnecessary— not even the rat swimming across a tank curiosit)^ in one or other of his Turkish pictures— a picture all . Their strangeness of aspect halted you. what is more. colourist. other for demands But M. and the scale and Delacroix without doubt a great a fanatical one. held you captive and inspired you with an irresistible Perhaps this had something to do with the unusual and meticulous methods which the artist often employs— for he lucubrates his painting. both sanguinary and mordant. with the tireless will of an alchemist. Sometimes he seemed to stem from the boldest colourists of the old Flemish school. was. his great is But it was colour that unique afifair. His splendid and radiant what is more. had less relish and tang. to use words borrowed from the moral order. It was. Decamps' master. and exhaled less fierce ecstasy upon the nose and the palate of the epicure than M. the colour had. but he is not concerns. So sudden and so novel was the impression that it produced upon the mind of the spectator at that time. one had no more importance than the other. of his canvases He it has many it. sometimes the splendour and the triviality of Rembrandt were his keen preoccupation. and. and from what studio this solitary and original talent had emerged. and he grouped his figures more harmoniously. or to decide who had fathered this singular artist.

then it's no more Decampses for us! who vdll do them now—? Alas! it wHl be MM. The waters were of untold depth. nor even the birds of prey which hover in the background of that masterpiece entitled Le Supplice des Crochets. Decamps' painting. would achieve by great draughtsmanship. The weirdest and most improbable tricks of shadow and light pleased him more than anything. No one studied atmospheric effects v^th so much care. when M. 27-8. In a picture by M. The only criticism. and often of reverie. Guignet^ and Chacaton/ them adored M.ON SOME COLOURISTS 7/ lethargy and fatalism. the heart was often saddened by a painful idea of the time and the trouble which had been devoted to their making. . in fact. ring themselves or its you would find little figures bestirdreaming— a complete little world in all and comic truth. but who are quite content wi\h things as the Almighty has designed them. Decamps the sun seemed really to scorch the white walls and the chalky sands. the enthusiastic flaneurs of both parties—men whose hearts emnative Yes. but what others. Decamps took up a pencil and thought fit to challenge Raphael and Poussin. M. like Delacroix. by an original choice of model or by broad and flowing colour. his walls were made of true limemortar. How much finer they would have been if executed less artfully! Last year. And in the midst of this fascinating decor. and in front of these masterpieces. every coloured object had a keen and lively transparency. Decamps' pictures were full of poetry. was that he was too concerned with the material execution of objects. which you could make. his houses were made of true plaster and true wood. At that time the sun and light played a great part in M. Decamps creation—these men said ^ See pp. Decamps achieved by intimacy of detail. the great shadows which used to cut across the flanks of his houses or to sleep stretched out upon the ground or the water had the languor and sweet drowsiness of shadows beyond description. brace the whole world. M. and who all of as one of the rarest products of amongst themselves: If Raphael prevents Decamps from sleeping.

Amongst the paintings by M."^ which are all good pieces of workmanship— httle pictures. those lovely children whom we know so well. huge spectacles huge curled moustache. May This painting was Lot 59 at the Moreau-Nelaton sale. and vdth one leg gallantly pointed in Punchinello follows him. to seems me so easy to console ourselves with the magnificent Decampses which already adorn our galleries. some genre-pictures. dust-charged atmosphere of a room which the sun It is trying to enter bodily. broadly that I do not be a puerile task. fatuous glance.. with a huge nose. its present whereabouts is unknown. is more like his best pictures. and incorrectly assigned to 1839) is in the Musee Conde. nevertheless. and a 'Of Decamps' four Turquie exhibits this year. M. he has given his ducks a slab of stone to svmn on. wdth the rain. Penguilly-rHaridon. 'At one time Baudelaire considered trator for the Fleurs ® liim as a possible illus- du Mai. one. they no longer strike the eye at once. Pierrot presente a et Polichinelle. See pis. etc. who is so good at doing the sun. compagnons Arlequin Pierrot. some landscapes. has failed. Harlequin advances with sweeping front of him. wdth swimming head. and his poor Httle legs in great big A ridiculous face.^ But you have to look for them. Amsterdam. 11 1900. besides. want to analyse the faults of these. M. there they all are. It would and besides everyone wiYi do it very well for himself wdthout any help from me. etc. the remaining three are in the Fodor Museum. 24-5. and that luminous. Decamps has reappeared this year with some Turkish things. and that is traditional. appears between two curtains. however. The colour of the whole thing is pleasing—both simple and fine— and the three characters stand out perfectly sabots. ChantiUy.^ TassembUe ses crafty air which with one eye open and the other closed. Paris. yet finely painted— there is one that especially stands out and attracts the eye. Decamps. and ob- sequious gestures. His Ecole turque. and an Effet de Pluie. the Souvenir de la d'Asie (catalogued as Enfants turcs auprds d'une jontaine. is presenting Harlequin to the public. .78 THE SALON OF 1846 All the same.

A lasting memory. has a ferocity and a brutality of manner which suit the subject rather weU and put us in mind of Goya's violent sketches. or his vexation. ferocity and drunkenness are shaking their rags. Lively curiosity. even in the most Flemish of orgies.^ who is the essentially comic.* 5. 147-8. I have rarely seen anything so comic as that poor wretch up against a waU. 2. I would. VAssassinat nocturne. which is excessively simple. who is usually shown touching the end of his nose with his index finger. Punchinello. lust. befuddled topers. however. Its colour is dim and commonplace. wooden legs. but the composition is unusual and does not lack charm. to express his pride in it. *How shockingl' 3. Jean Gaspard Deburau. in fact. Now adroit in that here it is is another fantasy. Those white domithat to see: it is you could wish battered hats. which is very is all much less and less learned. These. which true Pierrot of today—the Pierrot of modem history— and should therefore have his place in any painted harlequinade.ON SOME COLOURISTS picture its is less 79 against a grey background. I have never seen anything so poetically brutal. Manzoni's mendiants. under six heads. It's not so badly painted as we thought at first. A beggar is brandishing a knife in the face of a miserable fellow whose pockets are being ransacked and who is half dead from fear.' It And 6. the famous French pantomimist. ° this year. criticize M. It's badly painted. are the most ruffianly countenances a weird conglomeration of broken glasses.* 4. and whose beauty the greater perhaps involuntary. Here. But the thrilling effect of this the result of is its general appearance than of composition. The ruddy beauty who is kindling the desires of these gentlemen is a fine stroke of the brush. died See pp. has a less strange look. are the different reactions of the visitor who passes in front of this picture— 1. 'Let's have another look La Rixe des at this picture. The figure of reminds us of the EngHsh Punch. and the fantastic ingredient is confined to the manner in which the scene is represented. whom his neighbour has victoriously nailed with a pitch-fork. and well formed to please the connoisseurs. The second picture. Penguilly for not having taken his type from Deburau. . I refer to M.

. parks. 7 (1846). the draughtsmanship of the colourists— there is no question. at least it does not presume to give us Les Delaissees or he Jardin des amours —it provides designs for shawls and carpets. of which Baunames of two. Roberts^^ has a has a that the ceiHng looks less like a ceiling than a veritable sky. 136. It is less fine in tone. are very droll the most singular stamp to this scene of terror. M. As for over-all harmony. but enlarge his frame by a foot. you will recognize a lot of cleverness in the organization and in the general colourthis decorative picture. the extreme repre- from the principle M. Diaz thinks that you will invariably find it. and its role is a modest one. At first sight. and his name does not compel him to ape Watteau. If it same type fault. Of draughtsmanship —the draughtsmanship of movement. entitled Orientale. But in spite of the studied delicacy of M.. I would far rather have a kaleidoscope. You might say that there is the same difference between their works as between the mincing gallantry of the time of Louis XV and the honest gallantry of the age of Louis XIII. sentative of this is school. sets out a picture. who is cliiefly remembered ^ Diaz had is delaire mentions the eight paintings at the Salon this year. you might say that it was very simply executed. it by its name M. you look at it with more care. and his strength will fail him. or like arms and legs scattered in a railway accident. that he paints with much more simplicity. Diaz de that a palette la Peiia. R.80 THE SALON OF 1846 and give noes. is The school of Couture— since we must call —has given us much too much this year. Wattier and Perese generally treat almost similar subjects— fair ladies wearing old-fashioned costumes. MM. Wattier's figures. It is true that M. ing of perhaps. What distinguishes M. in Httle. . Diaz is a colourist. in the form of gigantic noses. in Perese beneath ancient shades. but for it is firmer in colour than the pictures of the liking. reproduced Illustr. "Presumably David Roberts. Perese is his superior in invention.^^ little who is. for his Spanish scenes. but if Villa-Amil has painted the throne-room in Madrid.A. M. the hmbs of all his little figures behave for all the world Hke bundles of rags. Another. it is which M. p. vol.

Who would want to feed on dessert? You hardly do more than just touch it when you anchovies. you say. Faustin Besson's colour loses much by being no longer dappled and befogged by the windows of Deforge's shop. Verdier paints well enough. itself men Without a doubt the most unfortunate of all these gentleis M. the man of the Sylphes. M. Fontaine is obviously a serious-minded man. Muller. contains both hors-d'oeuvres by any means. People who do not know Italian will think that this word means De- cameron. . A fine dinner and main courses. Armand and Adolphe ^ In the Boulevard Montmarte. These things are bonbons and nauseating sweetmeats. and the harmony of a picture. And what coloured great mysteries they are! A pink or peachall light. he has given us M. Norman In the various speciahties of Bas-Breton. you notice it from a great distance. Great painting is not made for everyone. MM.i2 M. M. the pimentoes. d'oeuvres?. subjects and the rest. M. I reply. the and the rest?—Appetizing horsNot a bit of it. de Beranger surrounded by youngsters of both sexes. Celestin Nanteuil knows how to place a brush-stroke. Couture himself. whom he is initiating into the mysteries of Couture's manner. who throughout plays the in- teresting role of victim. M. That is why his pictures leave no memory behind them. An imitator is a babbler who gives away surprises.ON SOME COLOURISTS 8l because he does not recognize the necessity for general colour. Swiss. the aioli. Would you dare to sneer at the Aries sausages. but fundamentally I believe him to be an enemy of thought. Catalan. But each man has his allotted part. the great connoisseur but he does not to fix the proportions know how of poetic subjects— of subjects streaming with poetry—has painted a picture which he calls Primavera. are pleased with your dinner. and a green shadow— that's there is to iti The terrible thing about this painting is that it forces upon the eye.

all their characters seemed to come from Brittany. Spanish or Breton. The title of this chapter is a contradiction. has divided nature into colour and line. agreement of contraries. for the drawing of a great draughtsman ought to epitomize both things— the ideal and the model. rich in poetry and. I owe him grudge once having painted a portrait in a superably romantic style. Colour is composed of coloured masses which are made up of an infinite number of tones. This year HaJEner exhibited three landscapes only. seems that he no vn ON THE IDEAL AND THE MODEL Since colour is the most natural and the most visible thing. no doubt he succeed in establishing his for own a particular originality. vol. Line.. I think that it would be well if I explained some of the principles by which they are guided —sometimes even wdthout their knowing it. and before I proceed to an examination of the men who form the second party. which also has its " The portrait was at the Salon of the previous year: see p. who himself yields the palm to M.8a THE SALON OF 1846 Leleux are outstripped by M. HafiFner. but more than just a painter. Hedouin is certainly possesses a firm touch will a commendable painter. and for not having painted any more like it. Several times I have heard this peculiar criticism directed at the MM. Leleux— that whether they were supposed to be Swiss. through harmony. which. who came it out vdth an occais sional daub in his spare time. in the same way. or rather an analysis. in invention. 185. Haffner. 22. who is inferior to M. But which facilitates the artist's means of execution. who and understands colour. above all. a portraitist of the front rank. of which one is reproduced Illustr. for As M. Guillemin. become a unity. M. p.^^ I beHeved that he was a great artist. Hedouin. 7 (1846). . is the party of the colourists the most numerous and the most important.

there no fear of their forgetting but they find it necessary to paint four times as large as Hfe. and among the thousands of fruits that the same tree can produce. By is his exclusive taste for simplicity. ( c. which is the contradiction of unity.ON THE IDEAL AND THE MODEL masses and its 83 generalizations. And thus they are the despair of lovers— and when a people commissions a portrait of its king. of the model. the inside angles becoming more and more obtuse. nothing even complete.b. I prefer the Antinous to the Apollo Belvedere or to the Gladiator. that impossibility—were ever discovered. they would be one and the same. Although the universal principle is one. for if so. for contradiction is an invention of man s.) ** I say contradiction. There are some wretched painters for luck. it is nothing less than a lover. be subdivided into a of which each one is a feature The circumference of a circle— the ideal of the curved line—may be compared with an analogous figure. Nature presents us with nothing absolute. But poets. Nothing complete—thus everything has to be completed.* I see only individuals. and duality. A memory is equally thwarted by too much particularization as by too much generalization. can profusion of particular lines. Now exact imitation spoils a memory. composed of an infinite nxmaber of straight lines which have to fuse with it. it is impossible to find two that are identical. artists. and not contrary.** But it is in the human race * Nothing absolute—thus the geometric ideal is the worst of idiocies. and the whole hinnan race would be miserable indeed if the ideal—that absurdity. But since there is no such thing as a perfect circumference. what would everyone do with his poor ego—with his crooked line? I have already observed that memory is the great cri- terion of art. Every animal of a similar species differs in some respect from its neighbour. art is a kind of mnemotechny of the beautiful. ) . (c.b. If that happened. and every ideal recaptured. the absolute ideal is a piece of nonsense. because the Antinous is the ideal of the charming Antinous himself. the feeble-minded artist led to a perpetual imitation of the same type. is also its consequence. not only is whom it the least wart is a stroke of it.

however. each epidermis produces its own hair. Osages. an ideal is an individual put right by an individual. is that. for you must often have had the surprising experience of turning back at the sound of a known voice and finding yourself face to face with an unknown stranger— the Hving reminder of someone else endowed with a similar voice and similar variety. in order to intensify a physiognomy and make its expression more clear. Not only must the artist have a profound intuition of the character of his model. he must generahze a Httle. gestures. It is possible that Lavater was mistaken in detail. because a portrait many a model com- plicated by an artist. but in the painter's soul there are just as ideals as individuals. all more or less Parisianized. that the sublime ought to avoid details— art finds the way of self-perfection leading back towards its childhood.84 above all THE SALON OF 1846 that we see tlie most appalling capacity for Without counting the major types which nature has distributed over the globe. and he has pointed out several errors of this kind in the old masters. but further. For the first artists also used not to express details. when guided by this principle —namely. Thus each individual has his ideal. I am not claiming that there are as many fundamental ideals as there are individuals. Such and such a hand demands such and such a foot. for a mould is gives several impressions. This is so true that Lavater has established a nomenclature of noses and mouths which agree together. Indians. who have been known to clothe religious or historical characters in forms which are contrary to their proper natures. every day I see passing beneath my window a certain number of Kalmouks. in doing the arms . he must deUberately exaggerate some of the details. Chinamen and Ancient Greeks. but he had the basic idea. reconstructed and restored by brush or chisel to Thus the ideal the dazzling truth of its native harmony. Each individual is a unique harmony. The great difference. is not that vague thing— that boring and impalpable dream—which we see floating on the ceilings of academies. It is curious to note that. The first quaHty of a draughtsman is therefore a slow and sincere study of his model.

this is reserved for Shylock the Jew. Apollo paying court to delicate of feature. the great painter of will give to modem each one of his characters is times—if ever he appears— an ideal beauty.) Peinture en Italie.ON THE IDEAL AND THE MODEL and the legs of their figures like drain-pipes. of the model—into is historical. Neither good Doctor Primrose nor gentle Cassio will have a bilious temperament. whose title is as clear as it is insolent:— 'How are we to go one better than RaphaelF In the affecting scenes brought about by the passions. cholic. Everything else that I might say on the subject of ideals seems to me to be contained in a chapter of Stendhal. but of interpreting in a simpler is and more luminous language. The introduction of the portrait— that idealized to say. you have first Drawing is a struggle between nature and the artist. But will he restrict himself to coldly producing copies of the ApoUo every time that he wishes to represent a young and handsome god? No. will not be indifferently sanguine or melanLovelace phlegmatic or bilious. This was . constituted to feel derived from a temperament which the effect of that passion with the utmost vividness. 101. Hke all our arts. for dark lago. and vitalizing certainly capable of rejuvenating and is re- modern painting. For him it is not a matter of copying. in which the artist will triumph the more easily as he has a better understanding of the intentions of nature. he will set a link between the action and the type of beauty. too inchned to be satisfied with the imitation of the old masters. was not but the details which choose. for Richard IIL The pure and lovely Imogen will be a trifle phlegmatic. Histoire de printed in 1817. Apollo delivering the Earth from the serpent Python will more more robust.b. reHgious or imaginative subjects necessitates at the outset an exquisite choice of model. oh. nor Werther The artist's first observations led him to fashion the Apollo Belvedere. for Lady Macbeth. for in order to to possess. (c. which. were avoiding them. it 8$ they who were avoiding the details.* la Daphne will be be * Stendhal.

of view. The result—which is not always discordant. forever in pursuit of colour. Ingres. almost without knowing it. This is so true that M. Their method is analogous to nature. whereas colourists—that is. A draughtsman start is They a would-be colourist. It is at once a pain and a pleasure to observe the efforts which he makes in choosing and coupling his tones. from a certain point ideal the inventor of the among the modems. whereas piure draughtsmen. This double method ceaselessly thwarts their efforts. all of the contradictions in- by delimiting their forms in a cruel and absolute manner. like a fashionable milliner. Ingres adores colour. would con- tent themselves with a black pencil. and then they proceed to fill up the spaces. Pinre draughtsmen are naturalists endowed with excellent perception. is who.86 THE SALON OF 1846 vm SOME DRAUGHTSMEN In tede PRECEDING CHAPTER eral this is I Said nothing at all about imaginative or creative draughtsmanship. if they wanted to the 'graphic' imagination in be logical and true to their profession of faith. but is nevertheless bitter What but even so. Michelangelo. because in genthe prerogative of the colourists. great colourists— draw by the light of temperament. and violent—is often pleasing to corrupt poets. Their works are an eternal piece of Htigation. but they draw by the light of reason. toil and contention. an exhausting dualism. when they have allowed their tired minds a . Nevertheless they devote themselves to colour with an imimaginable enthusiasm. and gives to all their productions a strange element of bitterness. they draw because they colour. taking no notice at volved. M. the most illustrious repreis sentative of the naturalistic school of draughtsmanship. admirable and unfortunate obstinacyl It is the eternal story of people wanting to trade a reputation which they have earned for one which they cannot win. is the only man to have possessed its supreme degree without being a colourist.

more than any other. Ingres draws admirably well. If M. the popular king of draughtsmen. In his sketches he drawing is often only charged and does not contain many strokes. ness or oddity. Ingres draws better than Raphael. does not least. know how that to make pictures— at intimate poems. If M. Raphael decorated immense walls. . He could make a sublime thing even of Mayeux. Now in a private collection . 176-7. See pp. His lightly M. and with which he has achieved the best epitome to date of the ideal and the model. and it is combined with cunning in such a way that he shirks no sort of ugliattains the ideal quite naturally. refractory and suffering talent— ( Wildenstein 225). cruel. your friend or your mistress so well as Ingres. who lacks the 'graphic' imagination. which will only open its eye for what is little. in whatever genre. it is because of that entirely personal draughtsmanship whose mysteries I was analysing a moment ago. work which. Mole's frock-coat^ or did he not put a bHnd man. they feel an absolute need to come to rest upon a Velasquez or a Lawrence. * In the Louvre ( Wildenstein 236 ) see pi. In a certain sense M. His * ^ is a grudging. on a large scale— it is never- theless just to say that his portraits are almost pictures— is. aspires towards the ideal? Nature repays for this Ingres.SOME DRAUGHTSMEN 8/ long spell of amusement in the midst of these dangerous struggles. But now take a look at the drawings of all those artisans of painting—many of them his pupils. Did he stop at Chenibini's carrick? And him handsomely pagan adoration. a one-eyed and a one-armed man. Ingres occupies the most important place after Eugene Delacroix. See p. 61. 59. but he would not have done the portrait of your mother.^ The beautiful Muse de Cherubini'^ is still a portrait. they start by rendering the minute details. The daring of this man is all his own. M. and he draws rapidly. but each one realizes an important contour. °A grotesque hunchback invented by the caricaturist Travies and much used by him and others in the 1830s. and a hunchback into the Plafond d'Homdre^—a. and it is for this reason that they enchant the vulgar.

and least charms. in the Louvre (Wildenstein 124). ^i. this is due to the fact that his method is not one and simple. d'Haussonville^ are works of a deeply sensuous rapture. Ingres. there is a small group of artists. Around M. an inand a naturaUst in his drawing. whose teaching has a strange austerity which inspires fanaticism. he follows the Hne with the humble devotion two Odalisques and his portrait of Mme. . depicts He beauties with the keenness of a surgeon.e. But we are never allowed to see any of these things except in a Hght which is almost frightening—it is neither the golden atmosphere in which the fields of the ideal lie bathed. they beget suffering. Ingres' talent. To reconcile so many contraries is no meagre task. As I explained above.^ his of the sublunar regions. The works attentiveness. he fastens upon their slightest in dealing with female subjects.88 THE SALON OF 1846 a singular mixture of contrary qualities. in order to display the sacred mysteries of his draughtsmanship. nor yet the tranquil and measured light gentlest sinuosities of their of a lover. all placed to the credit of Nature. and one whose strangeness is not among its He is Flemish in his execution. 60. of M. New York (Wildenstein 248). that he is them as he sees them. dividualist so it is not without reason that. "In the Flick Collection. he has adopted an artificial system of lighting which serves to render his thought more clear— something similar to the sort of twilight in which a still sleepy Nature has a wan and raw itself in appearance and in which the countryside reveals fantastic a and striking guise. Ingres are the result of an excessive and they demand an equal attentiveness in order to be understood. His Angelique. but rather consists in the use of a succession of methods. Roger et Angelique (1819). see pi. Born of suffering. for it would appear that he loves them too much to wish to change them. is and one happier has been overlooked. antique by his sympathies and an idealist by reason. A rather distinctive which I believe fact about M.

Hence their pursuit of leanness and pallor. The pictures are Les Oceanides. just in order to copy its deplorable mistakes with a puerile serviHty. and its general aspect is so ugly that it kills any desire to examine the design. 'Both repro. M. have coldly. This year he has sent some portraits and some other pictures. These gentlemen. Lehmann has never ceased painting abnormally big eyes. Curiosity and erudition are what they have seen and studied in their master. involuntary. They have plunged deep. People still remember La Fille de Jephte pleurant sa virginite. Les Oceanides is a sort of Flaxman. In the portraits of Hamlet and Ophelia^ there are visible pretensions to colour—\he great hobby-horse of this school! But this unfortunate imitation of colour is as saddening and disafiFectations— conventions and habits of the ' Exhibited by Henri Lehmann at the Salon of 1836. Ingres remains alone in his school.'^ but those excessive elongations of hands and which the experience of the ages feet. 23 May 1846. very deep.. His method is the result of his nature. he paints portraits which can rival the best sculptures of the Romans. 184. in which the pupil swims like an oyster in a soup-tureen. so to speak. p. Passionately in love with the antique and with his model. Since his portrait of the Princess Belgiojoso. and all the rest of those ridiculous conventions which they have adopted without examination or good faith. and a respectful servant of nature. But what an immense distance separates the master from his pupils! M. it is their pedantry that pre-eminently distinguishes them. Lehmann and Amaury-Duval. into the past. it is frank and. Flandrin. all those ridiculous brush which have a tolerable resemblance to the chic— are singular faults in an ardent worshipper of form. . and however weird and uncompromising it may be. dehberately and pedantically chosen the unpleasing and unpopular part of his genius to translate into a system. those exaggerated ovals of heads. they have deliberately discarded all the means of successful execution had made available to them. 7 (1846). vol. Hamlet and Ophelia.SOME DRAUGHTSMEN of 89 whom the best-known are MM. and the Illustrated London News. Illustr. however.

M. when they used to play melodramas there. being no longer mysterious. but sometimes her pictures are quite happily composed. Brillouin—A quoi revent himself. . Brillouin have already often been finked in the pubfic mind. but a weU-executed hand does not make a draughtsman—that would really be asking too much of detail. As for their physical and spiritual deportment. has to have the calligraphic neatness of an account-book. it is only too easy to guess that M. Calamatta also belongs to the party of the enemies of the sun. even for an Ingristl I think that Mme. As you look at this crude and glossy picture. mystical and Germanic school. Janmot comes from Lyons. Curzon has been content do Brillouins. This year M. But although he ® obviously a man of wit— his choice by The Lyons school of painting was particularly deplored Baudelaire. and the real artists—Rnd it less easy to borrow from men than their absurdities.go THE SALON OF 1846 tressing to me as a copy of a Veronese or a Rubens made by an inhabitant of the moon. interpret could Hoffmann in a less erudite. Janmot has done a Station— Le Christ portant sa Croix —whose composition has some character and gravity. although at the start they gave promise of more originafity. as in his last works. Curzon. les jeunes filles^^—hsis stepped out of to and M. Curzon and M. a less conventional is way. and they have a little of that air of authority which women— even the most Hterary of them. these t^vo figures reminded me of the bombast of the actors at the old Bobino. Their tendency reminds one of the school of Metz^^— Hterary. or rather mystical. but whose colour. where everything.' " See p. 32 above. generously-coloured landscapes. who often paints fine. 33 above. ^^ Under this main title. Brillouin exhibited four drawings. with individual titles such as 'Les presents de I'etranger' and Xe retour du bien-aime. M.^ The names of M. See p. Without a doubt Hamlet's hand is fine. is unhappily reminiscent of the colour of all possible Stations. In fact this is just the kind of painting which suits that city of cash-tills—that city of bigotry and punctiHo. down to religion.

SOME DRAUGHTSMEN of subjects is Ql enough mannesque afflatus to prove it—you feel that the Hoffhas passed nowhere near him . even in Master Martin Hoffmann's lines are more floating and his atmosphere more charged with wit than M. Vidal's place is not here at all. there is not a shred of the terrible or the grotesque in it. three or four years ago. at that time his drawings were less pedantic and less mannered than they are today. and these are the two most important arrows in my quiverl' But in spite of that. The artist has vainly tried to obviate this capital by choosing the least fantastic of all the stories. The preconception about VidaP^ began. of which HoflFmann himself said: It is the most mediocre of my works. I think. 34. I do not know why M. five such drawings are now in the Poitiers Museum. This morning I was reading an article by M. Can it be perchance that the hour of the Academy—that solemn and soporific hour—has struck for him. Curzon has made them. nor yet with the adequate neatness of a man of fine canvases. Presse. All this has and good sense. Properly speaking M. Master Martin and his Apprentices. if he is ^ Curzon " See p. Gautier's praise of in this article Ary Scheffer must have especially disgusted Baudelaire: see . and there is no wretched dauber whose pictures he has not catalogued. it is neatness run mad.^* in which he sang the praises of M. Vidal for being able to interpret modem beauty. Th6ophile Gautier. whose compositions have a very much more modem and more romantic charold-fashioned style of the acter. " In La exhibited five drawings illustrating Hoffmann's Meister Martin. 7th April 1846. and an enthusiasm for beautiful paper nothing to do with the sense of order with which a strong and vigorous mind is ruled and girt.12 fhe German artists bears no resemblance to the style of this great poet. for he has praised everyone. Gautier has donned the uniform of the 'good-natured man' this year. for defect he is not a true draughtsman. Nevertheless the moment is not too badly chosen. a fanatical regard for the and the pretty. Even so. for he has several of the ridiculous fads of the Ingrists—that little is to say.

great and fine idea. our women have not so much wit or sophistication. into his What potion can the painters have poured wine this year? or what rose-tinted spectacles has he selected with which to go to work? So M. you will not produce poetic women that way. Vidal understands modern beauty.92 THE SALON OF 1846 is already so well-mannered? and has literary prosperity such disastrous results that the public forced to call us to order by rubbing our noses in our original certificates of romanticism? Nature has endowed M. 152. A man does not arm himself v^dth wit and with meticulously sharpened pencils in order to paint! for some critics rank you—I really do not know why— among the noble family of the painters. of 1845: repro. 5 ( 1845). A ray of sxuishine in is enough to to bring out stench. vol. You once set yourself the task of expressing the idea of Self-love^'^—a. Everyone knows what admiration he has always evinced for sincere and generous works.. of understanding portraiture—either The " Salon " Salon " Salon first is to set forth the contours and the modelling of 1845. Nevertheless all their all these affectations will pass away its like rancid unguents. You never rose above puerile obscurity. I would rather leave Time expounding all do work than waste my own the poverties of this sorry genre. . p. of 1846. sir. but they are infinitely more romantic. It is no use your calhng your women Fatinitza. Vanessa. Saison des Roses^^ —a bunch of names for cosmetics. a supremely feminine idea— but you quite failed to interpret the sharp element of greed and the magnificent egoism of the subject.^^ Stella. Gautier with an excellent. does he? Come now! Thanks to nature. Look at nature. fierce broad and poetic mind. Illustr. IX ON PORTRAITURE There are two ways as history or as fiction.

or to make emerge from is depths of gloom. this does not however exclude idealization. than history. The masters Cherubini. 'Ingres' portraits of M. not quite clear to which straw-hatted lady Baudelaire Crepet suggests a portrait of the Countess Spencer by Reynolds. AmauryDuval and Lehmann is the truth and subtlety of their ^ an This exhibition took place in January 1846. Here the imagination has a greater part and yet. . Nelly O'Brien. will consist in choosing the sitter's most characteristic attitude— the attitude which best expresses his habits of mind. Bertin and Ingres. ^It is refers: * Lawrence's Master Lambton was shown in Paris in 1827. of the liistoricar school are David and and its best manifestations are the portraits by David which were to be seen at the Bonne Nouvelle exhibition. Well-known examples are La Dame au chapeau de paille^ and Master Lambton^ A characteristic excellence of MM. for enlightened naturalists. just as it it often happens that fiction truer can happen that a model is more clearly realized by the abundant and flowing brush of a colourist than by the draughtsman's pencil.! and those of M. Baudelaire wrote article about it at the time.g. a poem full of space and reverie. severely and minutely.2 The second method. and to disregard (or to merge with the whole) everything which is insignificant or which is the eflFect of some acci- dental blemish. is to transform the portrait into a picture— a poem accessories. one must know how to give a reasonable exaggeration to each important detail—to lay stress on everything which is naturally saHent.ON PORTRAITURE 93 of the model faithfully. so The masters of the 'fictional'. which with This one. Reynolds and Lawrence. in the Wallace Collection) fit the description. such as M. Ingres. marked and essential. warm atmosphere. Flandrin. which. but several others of Reynolds' portraits (e. or 'romantic' school are Rembrandt. Bertin (1832) and of Cherubini (1841) are in the Louvre (Wildenstein 208 and 236). Further. all its is is the special province of the colourists. a a more artist difficult art. because it is more ambitious it The has to be able to immerse a head in the soft haze of a to play.

Of course ^ I am only speaking here in my canine capacityl' The reference is to HoflFmann's Nachricht von den neuesten Schicksalen des Hundes Berganza. . de Stael's novel of tliat name. . tones which. caresses without feeling slightly sick—without a kind of internal shudder which tends to take away my appetite . however estimable they may be in other respects. while I was or contemplating M. " The heroine of Mme. would scream at one another like the devil and holy water. This pedantry in colour and draughtsmanship does constant injury to the works of these gentlemen. who have a smattering of debased literature and a horror of httle eyes. Thus. large hands. . or Hke marble and vinegar. large feet. women). . .^ who used to run away from blue-stockings as ardently as these gentlemen seek them out: Ingrized. Amaury-Duval's blue portrait (and the same applies to many other portraits of Ingresque. I used to feel an almost physical oppression. their effect is one of surprise rather than of pain. . I could never have endured her . if intensified. some strange association of ideas brought to mind the following wise words of the dog Berganza. Hoffmann had taken over the character of tlie speaking dog Berganza from a story by Cervantes. and found myseff quite incapable of preserving my serenity and freedom of mind in her presence Whatever the beauty of her arms or her hand. and that is their great triumphi The distinction in their draughtsmanship consists in their sharing the prejudices of certain modish ladies. in flesh and blood. . *Have you never found Corinne^ quite impossible? At the idea of seeing her come near me. nevertheless their poraffecta- and tion. trip of but since these are excessively etiolated and given in homoeopathic doses. little brows and cheeks glowing with joy and health— all of which can be extremely beautiful. We know with what an admirable simplicity mind they seek after distinguished tones—that is to say. so traits are often vitiated by a pretentious and clumsy Their immoderate taste for distinction never ceases to them up. all in one breath. .94 modelling. THE SALON OF 1846 The detail is well grasped and executed easily to speak.

Charming eyes and mouths. Dubufe is in portraiture for a long time yet. Perignon's wooden heads. Winterhalter is really on the decHne. Dubufe are the very ones who have allowed themselves to be enchanted by M. now and again an excellent painter. his natural destined to retain the privilege of elegance and almost poetic taste successfully conceals his innumerable faults. understands things in quite another way. well-executed arms— and toilettes calculated to send decent people running Mme. That is the unhappy fault of English painting. In the sphere of portraiture understood according to the second method. after a slimming diet of aesthetic tea and aesthetic butter. Winterhalter.* I 1 An excellent example of the kind of portrait whose essence I was attempting to define a moment ago is that por' * See p. the great master. she would emerge as pellucid and prim as an elegy. too) which they know how to give them. however— and this must be repeated over and over again— M. L^pauUe and Mme. Lehmann and Amaury-Duval. but her colour lacks firmness. have had the same sensation M. Mme. Frederique O'Connell. It is worth observing that the people who hurl the word *boxn:geois' so frequently at M. Dubufe the elder.ON PORTRAITURE I 95 Berganza in front of nearly all the portraits of women—whether old or new ones—by MM. Ingres. might have won a as the witty justifiable reputation. extraction. O'Connell knows how to paint with freedom and rapidity. M. Lepaulle is still the same. but always devoid of taste and good sense.''^ How much one would have forgiven M. If Dulcinea del Toboso herself were to pass through the studio of these gentlemen. Delaroche if it had been possible to foresee the Perignon factory M. Flandrin. In spite of her name. which is transparent to excess and is always characterized by too great a fluidity. given a sincerer taste for nature and a soHder colour. and this in spite of the beautiful hands (really well-painted. M. 22. MM. O'Connell seems to have been of German . Ingres. and in spite of the flattering elegance of certain details.

with leaps and starts of pen and chairit is enough simply to have read them in the paper— to realize that the whole man is not here. which is mobile and sensitive. that they are above all pleasant to look at—that is the first impression. but M.^ M. and his mouth. the creator is certainly a good painter. has a slyness and a delicacy which the painter has forgotten. You would suppose that Mile. The present pose is theatrical rather than expressive of the genuine force acterizes the which char- man. who gains much by working on someone else's model. which are both firm and solid. But an artist who undertakes the portrait of a famous man ought not to be content to achieve a merely felicitous paintsurface. It is enough to have seen him suddenly thunder forth his passions. She is wrong to do so.96 trait of THE SALON OF 1846 a woman by M. M. Guignet have preserved their touch and their colour. he is a simple workman. . The copy of he Globe. but his portraits are good— clear. E. His romantic pictures are bad. It gives no hint of that challenging and martial bearing with which he attacks life and all its problems. See p. quite devoid of invention. and the most important. 17. M. if you prefer it. of " Editor Le Globe. MM. Haffner had not become a gem-e-painter. speaking there is this excellent quality about their portraits. Europe. or. Boulanger would have made an excellent engraver. Victor Robert. Granier de Cassagnac seems somehow smaller and more athletic- down to his very brow. much more handsome. is a complete absurdity— surely it ought to have been in full view. easily and simply * Exhibited at the Salon of 1845. for he is also painting the portrait of a mind. seeking to fuse and to reconcile Decamps and Troyon. if it had to be there at alll I have always had the notion that M. Generally yet Diaz. which recedes into the shadow. To start with he has a broader nose. Tissier and J. solid. Granier de Cassagnac^^ is much uglier. of a vast allegory of gifted with a firm hand. Gautier was seeking to modify her manner a little. Haffner—drenched in grey and radiating mystery—which led the connoisseurs at the last Salon to entertain such high hopes.

L. moreover it is a manual. as we have that painter of such sincerity known for a long time? Mme. L. and also because of their enchanting appearance.) . de Mirbel is the only artist who knows how to thread her way through the difficult problem of taste and all because of this special sincerity. teUigence. Aix-en-Provence.b. They have the dense shadows and the bright of vigorous etchings. rather than an intellectual. memory that it abuses— for there are artists who are gifted with a profound memory for characters and forms— Delacroix or Daumier. calm and sound inonly the exaggerated praises of the poets rise higher. for example—and who have nothing to do with it. Granet's own pictures—which is generally black. whom could have led astray. 'chic' and the *P0NCIF* is 9/ have the And the curious thing that they often look of those excellent engravings after the portraits of highlights Van Dyck. am obhged artists in order to describe a modem has been sancmonstrosity —the word total neglect of the model and an abuse of the memory. that her miniatures have all the importance of serious painting. The *chic' may be compared with the work of those writing-masters who. that amiable eclectic. What am I to say of M.* but which tioned by of nature. It is THE CHIC AND THE PONCIF The word invention. and of so restless an intelligence that. outlandish I word it of modern which I do not even know how to to use. *chic'—a dreadful. 'chic' means a The 'chic' is * Somewhere or other Balzac spells it 'chique'. with an elegant hand and a pen shaped for italic or running script. (c. Cogniet. Granet's^^ portrait properly. can shut their eyes and ^ Now in the Musee Granet. Each time that M. in order to paint M. I believe Boulanger has tried to him to be a man of honest. he has had the idea of using the colour proper to M. truth. because spell correctly. he has fallen into bathos.THE painted.

I am quite aware that this man is a Frenchman. this commonly means 1 shall love her always!' If he clenches his fists and scowls at the boards or at the prompter. HORACE VERNET Such are the stem principles which guide this eminently national artist in his quest for beauty— this artist whose compositions decorate the poor peasanf s cottage no less than the carefree student's garret. THE SALON OF 1846 boldly trace a head of Christ or Napoleon's hat. in life and in nature. therefore. it means 'Death to him. popular songs. There are certain beings and things. the kind of astonishment expressed by a horizontal arm with the thumb splayed out.^ and the word 'vaudeviUiste' means a man whose head swims at the thought of Michelangelo. have Nevertheless it applies a horror of them. . Everything that is conventional and traditional owes something to the 'chic' and the 'poncif. just as ^The literal. the word 'Frenchman' means vaudevilliste.g8 of a flourish. In its most widely accepted sense. which are poncif'—that is to say. and whom Delacroix strikes into a brutish stupor. in the form The meaning of the word poncif has much 'chic'.e. Rage can be poncif. i. and so can astonishment—for example. When a singer places his hand upon his heart. the traitor!' That is the 'poncif for you. light theatrical entertainments interspersed with catchy. unsarcastic meaning of the word is a writer of vaudevilles. which are an epitome of the vulgar and banal ideas which are commonly held above those beings and those things. in common with that of the word particularly to attitudes more and to expressions of the head. the salon of the meanest bordello as often as the palaces of our kings. and that a Frenchman in France is a holy and sacred thing— even abroad I am told that this is so. but it is for that very reason that I hate him. XI M. great artists.

^ whose solemn hypocrisy has given of the consulate. This immense popularity—which. and will dechne in proportion as the peoples of the world contrive other joys for themselves—this popularity. * The reference is to Beranger.M. but also of civic virtue and patriotism. just as I hate another such him dreams and who has repaid the people's love with nothing more substantial than bad verses— verses which have nothing to do with poetry. will endure no longer than war itself. I hate painting manufactured to the sound of pistol-shots. great man. the poHce-force—everything. Everything that towers or plunges. hate canvases splashed over at the gallop. is M. and until 1869 the official govemment organ. It is not ideas that this are struck restless people wants. however. Therefore all respectable folk in France (excepting M. vox Dei his pictures is for me like a physical oppression. above or below him. topical is rhymes. ^ Le Moniteur universel. See note on p. It is now in the Versailles Museum. neverl The Frenchman has done take. but facts. and he only opens his Moliere in fear and trembling—because someone has persuaded him that Moliere is an amusing author. but almost by mis- He has been caused to do them. full of barbarities and solecisms. founded 1789. . but are ruptured and illcomposed. a kind of itching on the French skin). I hate this man because have nothing what- ever to do with painting (I would prefer to call them a kind of brisk and frequent masturbation in paint. great things. 156. since I hate the army. that trails its noisy arms in a peaceful place. The sublime always aflFects him like a riot. Horace Vemet^ a soldier is who practises painting. Horace Vemet) hate the Frenchman. roll of Now I hate I an art which improvised to the the drum. 'This year Horace Vemet exhibited a characteristically enormous picture (roughly 15 X 30 feet) of the Battle of Isly. causes him prudently to take to his heels. do I call it?— this vox populi. historical reports.^ That aU: abstractions. HORACE VERNET certain animals 99 by thunder. and Le Moniteur. in fact.

or the exact spot on a soldier's gear where the copper of his small-arms deposits its verdigris? Therefore what a vast public he has.lOO THE SALON OF 1846 I hate him because he was born under a lucky star.* and because for him art is a simple and easy matter. in fact. 1818) was a popular playwright. which is consequently given to reinforcing each of its sensations by evoking scenes from the past. coif 6). like M. and that is the great thing. Horace Vemet. which is applicable to almost all our fashionable novelists and historians. he paints Meissoniers as big as houses. shakos. the other of excess. and what bhss he a£Fords them! He has. (c. swords. I ask you. with the life and character which are proper to each of them— at least I have heard this theory upheld by one of my past teachers who had a prodigious memory.b. M. he is the absolute anthithesis of the artist: he substitutes chic for drawing. no doubt. as if by magic. But what.) have merely been learnt by heart'.) Marc Fournier (b. muskets and cannons Imagine all those honourable guilds mustered in front of a Horace Vemet 1 by their common love of glory What a sightl One day I remember twitting some Germans with I their * (Literally 'with a caul on his head'. and has a memory like an almanachl** Who knows better than he the correct number of buttons on each uniform. Fr. as many different publics as it takes trades to manufacture uniforms. in nothing else but a very lively and easily-roused imagination. Marc Foumier's. who are hardly more than literary journalists. Horace Vemet as clearly as possible. and endowing them. teacher was right. ***True memory. can diat matter to the enthusiastic traveller. An expression of M.b. for he lacks all passion. although he could not carry a single date or proper name in his head. a difference between sayings or utterances which have embedded themselves deep in the soul and whose intimate and mysterious meaning has been grasped. considered from a philosophical point of view. to the cosmopolitan spirit who prefers beauty to glory? To define M. in order to fulfil his oflBcial mission. Horace Vemet is gifted with two outstanding qualities—the one of deficiency. and in this matter there is. I think. or the anatomy of a gaiter or a boot which is the worse for innumerable days' marching. My . and words which Hoffmann (c. Furthermore. Nevertheless he is the chronicler of your National glory. cacophony for colour and episodes for unity. consists.

a generation full of health be- young. They answered. for Peter Cornelius congratulated him only once during the whole interview— and that was on the quantity of champagne that he was able to consume without suffering ill effects True I or false. And now tell me who again that the Germans are a simplebelieve in the oblique approach minded peoplel Many it people when and who have no more love than I have for M.. But there can be no imprudence in being brutal and going straight to the point when in comes to a critical drubbing. But they apply their capacities of improvisation to very different genres—M. ).b. we'. 57. repro. * Thus there is not one of M. the popular dramatist of the mid- fresco. every sentence the T stands for a Ve—a vast. a generation which is already elbowing and working up into a good positionserious. but silent and invisible and national cause it is 'we'. 'All of Granet's eight pictures at this Salon jects. passez-le gaiement. ( c. the Comte de Bonneval. will blame me for being clumsy in my attack. . essentially French. entitled Chasse vol 7 (1846).M. ^ had religious sub- One Illustr. Horace Vemet's canvasses before it which would not be appropriate to sing: Vous n'avez qu'un temps d is vivre. the story has all the ring of poetic tmth. Granef to the sphere of religion. and M. a whole new generation which hates war follies. ^We have a deep admiration for Horace Vemet as being the most complete representative of his age/ Well saidl The tale is told that one day M. HORACE VERNET 101 taste for Scribe^ and Horace Vemet. but had to wait a long time to be repaid. The gaiety Amis. Horace Vemet went to see Peter Cornelius. Horace Vernet. chiefly noted for his revival of From 1824 he was director of the Munich Academy. p. 'Peter Cornelius (1783-1867). Dedreux^ to that its way to the front ^ Eugene Scribe ( 1791-1861 nineteenth century. of Dedreux's pictures. au faucon. Granet and Alfred Dedreux are two more vignettemakers and great adorers of the 'chic'. derisive and menacingl* MM.^ He overwhelmed him with compliments. ) These lines are by the 18tli-century French general.

its we are now its in the hospital of painting. following the fatal law of propensities. One would suppose that he is more concerned with nature in those subjects which form his speciality. it is Lyons Museum. for his studies of running hounds are more convincing and more solid than the rest. others toil patiently and laboriously to drive the deep furrow of dravdng. in his hunting-scenes. M.^ which quite swamp the figure of how Christ. he knows to paint. au- tumnal vineyards of colour.102 of smart life. " One of the four pictures tlie 1717) painted for now in tlie which Jean-Baptiste Jouvenet ( 1644church of Saint-Martin-des-Champs. xn ON ECLECTICISM AND DOUBT As YOU probing SEE. and there they labour to his in full freedom. Each of them has a banner to his crov^m. and the second horses. In the present age. each one of those all-important hounds could gobble up four horses. dark in colour. They remind one of those famous sheep in Jouvenet's Vendeurs du Temple. and this is by no means among the least strange or contagious of them. THE SALON OF 1846 first is the The first does monks. on this condition alone that he can reign up to his limiting frontiers. and a replica is in tlie Louvre. each according taste and his temperament. and his works have the fresh and vivid appearance of theatrical decors. today no less than yesterday. the second bright and dazzHng. however. We are sores and sicknesses. There is a touch of the comic. Some gather an easy and abundant harvest in the golden. . and the words inscribed upon that banner are clear for all the world to read. Alfred Dedreux has two excellent quahties. Not one of their number has doubts of his monarchy. Each of these men knows and that securely it quite well that his is monarchy involves a sacrifice. and it is in this unshakable conviction that their serene glory resides. the strong and vigorous divide between them the various territories of art. just as in ages past.

no for a may be. because. it must aim at constant idealization. It is in the arts. which is not to be achieved except in virtue of sacrifice— an involuntary sacrifice. who inhabits an artificial county where the actors and the scenery are all made of the same pasteboard. neither star nor compass. an man without love. and whose ravages are now greater than ever before. a work conceived from an exclusive point of view will always have a great attraction An temperaments analogous to that of the artist. The know that the first business of an . for the doubters had a genuine will for salvaa tion. yet he reigns as master in his kingdom of pantomime and parade. which only results in an effect of darkness—a negation. because if art is to be profound. is itself dependent upon higher causes which I shall analyse in my penultimate chapter. but this impartiality only goes to prove the impotence of the eclectics. Horace Vemet the *chic is . coming last on to the it akeady open to it. mixes four different systems. which today is the principal cause of all morbid affections in the moral world. of a He happy and playful disposition. lose aU.ON ECLECTICISM AND DOUBT M. It has never occimred to the eclectics that is man s atten- tion the more intense as it is restricted and limits its own field of observation. that eclecticism has had the most manifest and palpable consequences. It is a question of grasp aU. However for great its defects. Doubt. eclectic's work leaves no memory behind eclectic does not it. entitled On Schools and Journeymen. And Doubt begat Eclecticism. IO3 himself. that odious representative of has at least the merit of not being a doubter. eclectic is but a Therefore he has parti pris. man Eclecticism has at aU periods and places held scene. No feeble matter how he clever he is man. no ideal. An eclectic is a ship which tries to sail before all four He winds at once. above aU. People flection are not who are so lavish with their time for recomplete men: they lack the element of passion. finds the remotest horizons itself superior to past doctrines.

no doubt— that he was not a painter born. Hke a decree or a rhetorical exercise. the enof one art upon another. Hke vice. other arts. To make a dehberate point of looking for poetry during the conception of a picture is the surest means of not finding it. First of all. ^Friedrich Overbeck (1789-1869). and it is the mark of genius to interesting in virtue of awaken it there. . and the neo-Christian dawned upon M. It is the result of the art of painting itself. Thus an eclectic is no man. draughtsmen of the of this method— if After imitating Delacroix. which poetry is able to awaken ideas of painting in the reader. after aping the colourists and French it school. This protest is not Experiment with contradictory means. and he school of Overbeck. Ary Scheffer— httle late. passion or appetite. wit and sentiment into painting— all these modern miseries are vices pecuHar to the eclectics. It was a is ridiculous blunder. but poetry is unable to disguise the shortcomings of a work. the resulting work cannot but be more valuable. leader of the 'Nazarenes'. for it hes in the spectator's soul. mean.^ decided to ask help and protection from poetry. Doubt has led certain artists to beg the aid of all the artist is to protest against Nature place. it is spontaneous and urgent. croachment xin ON M.104 "^^^ SALON OF 1846 made coldly by putting Man in her and calculatedly. From 1810 he worked in Rome. poetry not the painter's immediate aim: to when poetiy happens be mixed mth painting. ARY SCHEFFER AND THE APES OF SENTIMENT M. From that moment he was obHged to turn to other shifts. It must come without the artist's knowledge. Ary Scheffer is a disastrous example an absence of method can be so called. Painting is only colour and form. it is no more like I poetry than poetry to is Hke painting— than the extent. for two reasons. the importation of poetry.

in which he wrote that Marguerite belonged to Scheffer almost as much as to A Goethe himseff. The transient vogue for M. its favour has turned to harshness and ingratitude. See pi. they are quite hibited. to be one of his most popular works. people rediscovered their dearest memories of the great poets— and that was enough for them. where M. Bk. and today. Loeb transL reference to Gautier's Salon in La Presse. one Louvre and one in the Dordrecht Museum. have only taken the most highly coloured and clearly visual subjects from the poets. Augustine and his mother proved. Ary Scheffer is concerned. 10. little by httle the public has grown sick of invisible painting.^ It is the very height of absurdity. IX. which eye hath not seen. whose instinct always guides them aright. let us examine the subject of his painting entitled St. nor hath it entered into the heart of man'.* But our artists— even those of them who are only gifted with a moderate originality—have for a long time been showing the pubHc samples of real painting. to choose a sfaiking example of M. Ary Scheffer's ineptitude. And so. Augustine and St. . It is like watching a dancer execute a mathematical figure! Formerly M. Thus they prefer Shakespeare to Ariosto. however. ^The Salon of 1846 was the last at which Ary Scheffer exThe painting of St. ch.^ An honest painter of the Spanish School.ON M. one is in the Tate Gallery. executed with a sure hand and according to the simplest rules of art. And now. with his double piety— artistic and rehgious. Aiy Scheffer was in fact a homage to the memory of Goethe. ARY SCHEFFER In the second place— and this last IO5 is a consequence of these observations— it should be noted that great artists. 23. But put all that out of your mind. in the * * Augustine's Confessions. Monica. and he painted at least four replicas. St. How right! like all pubHcs! But upon my word. here the vital thing is to express the following passage— with brushes and colour:— 'We did betwixt ourselves seek at that Present Truth (which Thou art) in what manner the eternal life of the saints was to be. in his poetical pictures. Ary Scheffer enjoyed the pubhc's favour.would simply and sincerely have done his best to paint the general idea which he had formed of the two saints. nor ear heard.

tlie subject of titles in tlie Scdon of 1859: see pp. As feeling or sentiment. by extending the method. M. It is Scheffer's an age without pityl Ary younger brother. Decamps has the painters. I would recommend the reading of Diderot's Salons. you find in tlie catalogue something called Pauvre Fileusel'^ WeU. it wiU be possible to achieve the sentimental rebus. is an infinitely variable and multiple thing. A simple method of learning an his public. 253 ' By Mme. Horace Vemet has the garrisons. title should be noted. when speaking of a painter who had been recommended to him because he had many mouths to feed. If it sentiment are. like fashion. Delaroche which have been artist's a heavy rainstorm. by an engaging fusion of horrors. that the picture's subject— and this is never particularly true with those artists who. and M. observed that either pictures or family would have to * To those who must sometimes have been shocked by my be abolished.) ' Baudelaire returns to ff. range is to ex- Eugene Delacroix has the painters and the poets on his side. Celeste Pensotti. M.106 THE SALON OF 1846 Moreover this kind of painting is so wretched. pious wrath. Henri Scheffer. . it is quite possible that the picture may represent by a ° a female silkworm. so blurred and so muddy that many people have taken M. Among other examples of properly bestowed charity. (c. In this way.^ another artistic Girondist. so dismal. bad were otherwise. they will find that that great philosopher. mix sentiment with wit. generally speaking. The best of them are those whose understanding does not go beyond the pretty. The ape It tells its of sentiment relies above all on the catalogue. Ary Scheffer's pictures for those of M.b. they would do something other than sentimentalize. or a caterpillar. they are left more out in like pictures by M. Ary Scheffer those amine aesthetic ladies their sex who revenge themselves on the curse of in religious by indulging of music* The apes artists. however. there are apes of sentiment of different orders.^ For example. squashed child. In my opinion.

these are In general. " Compte Calix exhibited Amour au cMteau and V VAmour d. * By H. It represents a gentleman surprising a couple of blushing damsels with a naughty picture-book. are Bouillyii or of Bernardin de Saint-Pierrei2_ the moralizing kind. wisdom and sometimes from the works of M. It is same genre. and then the same girl. involved. playing with roses and jewels. Illustr. consequences of her indiscretions in the gutter. crippled and emaciated. Charles Richard's picture was in fact in -jive divisions:— *le rendezvous: le bal: le luxe: la misere: Saint-Lazare'.^ What can that be? Perhaps a white flag— and a tricolour? or perhaps a deputy in his triumph— and the same deputy after being sent it is a young maiden. or else they are a pictorial translation of the outcries of the poor against the rich— the protesting kind. and and a metaphysic within the reach of the simple. calm and repose: VAmour d la ville^^— shouts. exhibited ^* LAmour d. disorder. exh. la ville.^^ Quite a different order of sentiments less mystical. sentimental genre-pictures are taken from the latest poems of some blue-stocking or other—that is the melancholy and misty kind. " The author of Paul et Virginie. la chaumiere (both repro. or else they are borrowed from the of the nations— the witty land. p. [1846]. playwright. promoted to the status of streetwalker. suffering the of moment packing? But no. 89): Pierre Cottin an engraving after Guillemin. Here a few more examples of the VAmour a la cflmpagne— happiness. "Jean-Nicolas Bouilly (1763-1842).^ I beg you to look for this one.-G. as you can see. at the Salon of 1839. fille La Vie d'une jeune warning to those en quatre compartimentsM a bent for motherhoodl A who have ®By Charles Landelle. . of I beheve. upturned chairs books.ON THE APES OF SENTIMENT IO7 Aujourdhui and Demain. ^" By Eugene Giraud. to slip into the Salon in the wake La Permission de is dix heures. XV class of sentimental which began. This picture comes into the Louis genre. Schlesinger. L'lndiscret.

rue Vivienne. Some "This was perhaps A. tlie "Victor Hugo's play about the famous courtesan of century was produced in 1831. its it is a Proteus which And so there is infinite variety among doubters.108 THE SALON OF 1846 (Tune vierge folle. Hterature of the Marion Delorme^'^ persuasion. the pastry-cook.— Perhaps it is because it hangs too high for its details to be properly visible. earned beggar selves who mounts eternal guard at the door of F61ix.^^ The crazed old creature by the sweat of her brow. which consists of preaching the virtues of How by witty the French are. pictures. . dividuahty. of them are serious-minded and full of great goodThese deserve our pity.^ which is shockingly unpleasant to look at. " No. who at the time of his return from Rome was regarded as a colourist by some people (chiefly his friends). Papety. that it reminds one of the ridiculous tail-end of the Imperial School. nothing this is without its use. Dominique Papety was for a while one of Chenavard*s assistants. 42. drawing-room ballads. 1^ Inside. and I what pains they take in order to delude themselves Books. Beranger's La ClmritS. and I am obHged now to bundle together several individuals who have nothing in common beyond the absence of any substantial inoften does not recognize own face. to the UAumSne is giving a copper. 17th ^According to the Salon catalogue. There is M. for instance. This one evidently derives from whores and assassins. This year he has sent a picture entitled Solon dictant ses lois. xrv ON SOME DOUBTERS Doubt assumes a whole host of forms. the rich of the day are gorging them- on sweetmeats. wiil. tliis painting was commissioned by the Ministry of the Interior. no means is neglected charming people when it is a question of throwing dust in their own eyes.

should not comply. Comairas. M. is now in the MontpelHer Museum. Chenavard has given further proof of taste in his choice of subject. In Le Sang de YenusJ^ the Venus is a pretty and delicate figure. he gets lost. This picture bespoke a real grasp of the science and a thorough connoisseurship of all the M. mentioned here. Even if nature demands it. . attracted attention several years ago. M. but that does not make a taste for harmony. Chenavard was a high-minded and sociallyconscious painter—Silvestre called him *un orateur en peinture' —whose subdued colour often approached grisaille. an artist who formerly took his bow and who used to devote his mind above compound harmony of Hues. 22. Polycarpe. M. His Martyrdom of St. Chenavard is an eminently learned and hardworking artist. Matout is liable to the same criticism on the score of colour. Every time that he has to do anything else but a study of a woman. He was a close friend of Delacroix's. For a painter who came from Lyons. M. for a series of grisailles to decorate the interior of the Pantheon: after three years the work had to be abandoned when the Pantheon was returned to the Church. Glaize beHeves that you become a colourist by the exclusive choice of certain hues. as a draughtsman. entitled Palingenesie Universelle. entitled L'Enfer de Dante. Italian masters. too. was exhibited at the 1841 Salon. and of cleverness in his design. Glaize is compromising his early successes by giving us works both vulgar in style and muddled in composition. whose Le Martyre de St. and who all to the wishes to be true to his principles. the artist who is an ideahst. This year ° This painting. but the nymph who crouches in front of her is an appalling example of the poncif. Furthermore. with a good suggestion of movement. See pi. in 1851. have a taste for rich hues. should avoid giving a figure improbable movements of the neck and arm. Windowdressers' assistants and theatrical costumiers. Comairas was also one of his assistants in a later project. and then placed in the church of Argenton-sur-Creuze (Indre). Papety has sent entirely same Salon. Baudelaire treats Chenavard with surprising respect.ON SOME DOUBTERS different-looking pictures to the I09 For two years running now M. Poly carp. 3 But when you are contending v^dth Michel* In the Montpellier Museum. painted in collaboration with of composition M.

Guignet always carries two men about in his head— and M. vol. 27. least? THE SALON OF 1846 would it not be fitting to outdo him in colour. If there are some doubters who excite interest. Horace Vernet. Salvator Guignet paints in sepia. Brune puts one in mind of the Carracci and the little second epoch.^ MM. Les Condottieres aprds un pillage^ is painted in the first manner. ^ Illustr. which amuses and fascinates the spectator. but no great quaHty. three are reproduced Illustr. Decamps. the same thing was v/rong with his taste for erudition Fharaons. he has at last shown us a picture which. 7 (1846). M. M. Biard seems to be really and truly succumbing beneath the burden which he has imposed upon himself. " Of Biard's exhibits.. I have been told that the author of La Barque de Caron was a pupil of M. p. . Xerxes verges upon the second. and that eclectic painters of the or *Repro. vol. at M. but no soul—no great faults. 7 (1846). M.110 angelo. Gigoux hardly produced anything more than vast vignettes. Nevertheless Salvator Rosa this picture is well enough composed. M. After numerous setbacks. At the 1845 Salon: see p. is at least quite well built. whom the public meets again each year with that wicked deHght characteristic of bored flaneurs for whom excessive ugliness always secures a few moments' distraction. and turns his attention from the principal idea. M. Guignet Decamps is an entity weakened by duality. pp. supposing him to have become suddenly preoccupied with colour. Le Mariage de la Sainte Vierge looks like a work by one of those countless masters of the Florentine decadence. however. a solid manner. The coldly frivolous M. This would seem to indicate that he has not the least doubt in the world. 221. there are also some grotesque ones. But even at his best period. He returns from time to time. were it not for a and connoisseurship. if not very original. Brune and Gigoux are already established names.. Biard^ is a universal man. 152-3. to his natural manner—which is the same as everybody else's.

WatEnglish illustrated annuals. Nevertheless I ask you to observe that amidst all this appalling lumber— history-pictures. concentrated chiefly on style— that is to say. and on the architecture of nature. is neglected. The essence of their talent lay in an eternal adoration of visible creation. Rubens. as in portraiture and history-painting. and imaginative landscapists. and of the magnificent stage decors at the Opera. . As for the landscape of fantasy. which is the expression of man's dreaming. and flowing in defiance of the laws of topography. following the example of the most celebrated Flemish masters. it was this that was their salvation and gave a particular lustre to the modem school of landscape. there are naturaHsts who ideahze without knowing it. who devote themselves to a weird and peculiar genre called historical landscape. represents om: natural need for is the 'graphic imagination' imported Fabulous gardens. Biard has not yet suffi- flinched before the religious picture. thus there are landscape-colourists. more philosophic and more dialectical. Others. on the harmony of the principal lines. landscape-draughtsmen. limitless horizons. streams more hmpid than in nature. travel-pictures. It into which by Rembrandt. it is possible to estabhsh classifications based on the different methods used. M. devoted themselves exclusively to the study of natiure. the landscapepainters. This curious genre. gigantic boulders constructed landscape. or the egoism of man substituted for nature. under all its aspects and in all its details. epi- grammatic pictures—one genre ciently convinced of his merit. He is XV ON LANDSCAPE In landscape. it was httle cultivated. of the best examples are offered teau and a handful of which is itself a small-scale counterpart the marvellous. sentimental pictures. and partisans of the 'poncif'.ON LANDSCAPE 111 no one on earth is surer of his ground. At the time of the romantic revolution.

has had but few enthusiastic followers among us. Have you ever seen tragic persons eat or drink? It is obvious that these people have invented their own moral system to fit their natural needs. mists floating like a the landscape of fantasy. ethics applied to nature. infinite degrees of variety to penetrate the skull of a tragic and even if you beat or kill him. and what a monstrosity Nature is has no other ethics but the brute facts. I say. in his Letters on the French Stage. / had . but in esoteric codes which the adepts reveal to no one. 1 What a contradiction. nevertheless we are asked to believe that she must be reconstructed and set in order according to sounder and purer rules—rules which are not to be found in simple enthusiasm for the ideal. . There tlie spectres of the old tragedies reappear. of which it is only at the Comedie Frangaise (the most deserted theatre in the universe) that one can find a few samples^-the art of Tragedy. etc. created their own temperament. and after suspending them on wires. it is neither free fantasy. whereas the majority of mankind have ^ to submit to theirs. Thus. nor has it any connection with the admirable it is slavishness of the naturahsts. either because it was a somewhat un-French fruit. over which I want to say a few words in the manner of a requiem-mass. or because our school of landscape needed before aU else to reinvigorate itself at pmrely natural springs. in short. patterns of love. consists in cutting out certain eternal patterns (for example. in making them walk. Never.). Heine wrote *I frequented the Th^atre-Frangais very little. As for historical landscape. sit down and speak. That house has for me something of the moumfulness of the desert. according to a sacred and mysterious ceremonial. I once heard a poet-in- Baudelaire's remark is somewhat reminiscent of what Heine to say some ten years before. Tragedy—that genre forgotten of men. with dagger and poisoned cup in their wan hands . bow. filial piety. will you cause an idea of the ambition. hate. because Nature her own ethics. even by dint of using a mallet and a wedge.112 THE SALON OF 1846 dream— according to ideal proportions. and that they have poet. you will not persuade him that there must be different sorts of morality too.

MM. Every immoral tree that has allowed itself to grow up on its own. for risk of tragedy quite naturally. for in comparison with these gentlemen. cut do\^ai: every toad. or a virgin forest. is an instinctive habit and a natural turn of mind with M. on pain of disgrace. it represents cows coming to drink at style. and whose certain it admirable goodwill is cheated one day in every seven. as far as he was concerned.or tadpole-pond is pitilessly buried beneath the earth. Desgoffe. a pure sky. tombs and funerary urns. Is reasonable to allow some of our citizens to besot themselves and to contract false ideas? But it seems that tragedy and historical landscape are stronger than the gods them- selves. a savannah. a historical shepherd could never allow himself any others. AHgny.ON LANDSCAPE II3 ordinary to the Comedie Frangaise say that Balzac's novels wrung his heart with pain and disgust. So now you understand what is meant by a good tragic is an arrangement of master-patterns of trees. of necessity. and for whom there is no such thing as Sunday— if men of letters can escape the of the dawn. with M. It vegetation. And if ever a historical landscape-painter feels remorse for some natural peccadillo or other. Unfortunately he has only sent one landscape this year. is a violent and philosophic dogma. a free and rich landscape. The dogs are cut out on some sort of historical dog-pattern. he imagines his Hell in the guise of a real landscape. cannot have sprung from Poussin. for example. fountains. MM. he is a depraved and perI It certainly verted spirit. AHgny. do not know what is the origin of historical landscape. . Chevandier and Teytaud men who have undertaken the glorious task of struggling against the taste of a nation. there are nevertheless a number of people who have been persuaded that the Comedie Frangaise is the sanctuary of art. It seems to if took a hand. that. is. he could not conceive of lovers existing on anything else but the scent of flowers and the tear-drops me that it is time the government men of letters. and in its own way. Corot and Cabat are much concerned with But what. Corot. who each have their own labours and their own dreams. are the Paul Flandrin.

beautiful views of M. this retrenchment of means. see " pi. 51. this dehberate privation cannot add to his glory . but this latter-day Janself- senism. Cabat has completely deserted the path on which he had won himself such a great reputation. which perfectly express the preconceived idea of these places.^ M.^ In general the influence of Ingrism cannot possibly produce satisfactory results in landscape. See pi. He is truly mistaken in no longer putting his trust in nature. and his method of translating them on to copper suits him no less well. Without ever tic talent being a party to the bravura peculiar to certain naturalistic landscape-painters. and it is their very simpHcity of colour. M. AHgny's serious and idealis- has found a most suitable subject in these harmonious poems of stone. which is one of the requirements of the memory. Their main quahties are a rich and abundant colour. Aligny has etched some very Corinth and Athens. the naturalists and popular and have made much more of a splash. He is a man whose talent is too great for any of his compositions to lack a special distinction. are much more ^ Entitled Vue prise dans la foret de Fontainehleau: now in the Boston Museum.114 THE SALON OF 1846 a pool in the forest of Fontainebleau. Almost all his works have the particular gift of unity. he was formerly very much more brilliant and very much more rmif. as he used to do. The members of the opposite party. that gives such enchantment to his compositions. shadow. dessinies sur nature et gravSes par ThSodore Aligny. * The previous year Aligny had published a vain Of Cabat's two Museum. reflections and the colouring atmosphere— all of which play too great a part in the poetry of Nature to allow her to submit to this method. sites les set of ten Vues des plus cSldbres de la Grdce Antique. that entitled Le Repos is in the Lou- . transparent and luminous skies. of 1868. and a special kind of sincerity which makes them accept everythe colourists. Corot is a harmonist rather than a colourist. To judge by a remark in There's Salon de 1846 (ed.^ M. Line and style are no substitutes for light. combined with their complete lack of pedantry. exhibits. 21. p. it was eight of these etchings that Aligny exhibited this year. 371).

like M. and the picture looks well as a whole.ON LANDSCAPE thing that nature gives. His Etude de Saint-Cloud is a charming thing and full of taste. these devices. and in the background the skirts of a forest. 101. that entitled Vallee de Chevreuse is reproduced " Illustr. with figures by Meissonier. and they amuse the blockheads. sometimes intrigue the spectator more than the landscape itself. Hippolyte Babou. On Scribe. p. Troyon. The cows are beautiful and weU painted. Hke M. Meissonier's -fleas which are a fault of taste.'^ They attract the attention too much. ^ much Of Troyon's four exhibits. This suggests that if you took away the cows.) It was Hippolyte Babou (182478) who later suggested the title Xes Fleurs du Mai' to Baudelaire. * At last I have found a man who has contrived to express his admiration for this artist's works in the most judicious fashion and with an enthusiasm just like my own. 'Frangais's Etude de Saint-Cloud.b. It is M. was in the Pourtales collection. M. Scribe. in the tight-rope tricks in advance. M.^ take too much deHght of their brush. Meissonier and Babou cannot but gain all three by my quoting it here.. 'Genevieve or La Jalousie paternelle is a ravishing little Meissonier which M. but I do not think that the trees are vigorous enough to support such a sky. that they should all be hung along the flies of the Gymnase. is in the Musee Fabre. Charles Le Roux. the landscape would become very unsightly.* with trouble. It is II5 a pity that some of them. acquired known and monotonously triumphant. 7 ( 1846). in the feuilleton of the 6th April.^ will push still further the limits of boldness and security. His E§et de soleil couchant. vol. and how to blend with it a romantic perfume of the pinrest essence. Coignard has sent a large and fairly well-constructed landscape which has much attracted the pubHc eye. 187. In these circumstances it may even happen that a surprise pupil. Le Roux was a pupil of Corot's. He knows how to study nature. except for M. see note on p. Scribe has hung up on the flies of tiie Gymnase' Courrier jrangais. for there is only one inimitable thing. Montpellier. also exhibited. as he does. I think. and that is natural simpHcity. Nevertheless they are done with that particular sort of perfection which this artist puts into all his little things. (c. This strikes me as so sublime that I take it that MM. . Frangais is one of our most distinguished landscapepainters. it has a number of cows in the foreground.

interesting results. Flers has only sent pastels. He is very good at rendering clear. . he does not always possess a sufiBcient firmness of touch. and if he has been able to avoid the heroics of the other landscape-painters. It seems to me that M. but I would not have anyone abuse it to the extent of M. and his tones are fresh and pure.Il6 THE SALON OF 1846 own Unfortunately M. and floating mists shot through with a ray of sunlight. Borget would perhaps obtain more India. p. With a litde less art. Borget. bleached and reduced in size. instead of looking for the grey and misty ® tion tlie painting by Joyant reproduced in Tllhistrayear (vol. Chacaton. soft He is no stranger to the special poetry of is the northern countries. Peru and Without being a painter of the first rank. M. Chacaton. which a httle too and fluid. His otlier two pictures were of Venetian sub- Nevertlieless this jects. who has never set foot outside the Piazza San Marco and has never crossed the Lido. But his colour. M. 89) represented Le Font SainfBSnezet. M. His loss is equal to that of the public. smacks of the methods of water-colour. Unfortunately they almost always suggest paintings by Decamps or Marilhat. however. and if he could concern himself less with other landscape-painters and could paint more as a simple traveller. Lottier. His pictures are bright and smiling. it is doubtless because of the monotonous perfection which he brings to it and which results always from the same tricks. As a rule tures I MM. has crossed the frontiers of China. has for a long time exclusively to the been one of our cleverest painters. Joyant has never been able to move onw^ards. smiling skies. who has devoted himself Orient. Avignon. have nothing against specialization.^ If M. 7. Joyant. Heroult is one of those who are particularly obsessed with light and atmosphere. M. Joy ant's specialty attracts the eye more than the next man's. Joyant. Lottier to distant lands in search of their subjects. and has brought us landscapes from Mexico. he has a brilliant and easy colour. and Borget go and their pic- have the charm of an evening with a travel-book. M.

The truth of these sun-swamped panoramas is marvellously brutal. Like Delacroix. and assume a deep and serious love of nature of his skies dominating and ordering it all—and then perhaps you wiU to form some idea of the magic of his pictures. M. with whom words he has other aflBnities also. The more the public sees good painting. Rousseau^— and it seems to me to be high time that he took his bow once again before a public which. For me. for past setbacks and underhand plotting have combined together to keep him away from the Salon. seems to me to fulfil the conditions of beauty in landscape: he is a man but little known to the multitude. but not dazzling. is The fleecy softness incomparable. the more it parts company from even the most popular artists if they cannot offer it the same amount of pleasure. Gudin^^ is increasingly compromising his reputation. he is a naturalist ceaselessly swept toward the ideal. Rousseau's is talent in as it is to interpret that of Delacroix. add a few memories of English painting. His magnificent. You would think that they had been done with a colour-daguerreotype. Gudin "Although he had had a moderate success at the Salon in the early 1830s Theodore Rousseau's landscapes were consistently rejected from 1838 until 1849. Rousseau a northern landscapeeffects- painter. ness thanks to the efforts of other painters. You will already have guessed that I am referring to M. loves to bring out their harsh- and their fiery dazzle. His painting breathes a great sigh of melancholy.ON LANDSCAPE effects of the 11/ warm climates. He loves nature in her bluish moments— twilight sunsets—massive. . has gradually become familiar with new aspects of landscape. It is as difficult to interpret M. Think of certain landscapes by Rubens and Rembrandt. M. He was nick-named *Le Grand Refuse. be able M. There is one man who. of light and moisture-laden haunted shades— great plays strange colour is breeze- and shadow. he adds much of his soul to the mixture. and more even than the most celebrated absentees. more than all of these. ^° Gudin's thirteen exhibits this year ranged from landscape to sea-battles.

M. is the delight and the glory of the city of Lyons. title 7 of ( 1846). bright and luminous. ^^ is A huge felucca. trouvS par des chiens de bergers. . Saint-Jean. which one imagines full of heroic and ravenous huntsmen. Jules Noel has produced a its really beautiful marine- painting. and his colour is fluent and hai-monious. p. bad singers of whom and of poetic painters..^^ however. too lying at anchor in some great harbour. That excessive minuteness of his is intolerably pedantic. because he can do them very nicely by mechanical means.i3 who. The drama of his Wolf Trap.Jean specialized as a flower-and-fmit painter. much M. I am told. of are great actors. Kiorboe is one of those sumptuous painters of old who knew so well how to decorate their noble dining-rooms. is not quite easy enough to follow. bathed in all the shifting light of the Orient. You might imagine that he had never seen real fruit.Jean's pictures has been the yellow of urine.— Furthermore the success achieved by this canvas proves that the pubHc of today is ready to extend a warm welcome to all newcomers. in all the genres. Whenever anyone talks to you of the naivete of a painter from Lyons. and he is doubtless one of those who impose a daily amount of progress upon themselves. Saint. and not enough unity? But M. 120.Il8 THE SALON OF 1846 class of comes into the people who stop their it is wounds with artificial flesh. Illustr. Saint. vol. perhaps because the trap itself is partly in tlie shadow. perhaps. Not only do natural " Repro. A little much colouring. clear colour. said that they M. of a fine. The hindquarters of the dog which is falHng back with a yelp are not vigorously enough painted. Jules Noel certainly has too talent not to have still more. do not believe a word of it. and that he does not care a scrap. For a long time now the over-all colour of M. Kiorboe's painting has joyfulness and power. with strange shapes and colours. M. will never achieve more than a moderate success in a country of painters. Kioboe's painting was "The " correct Un renard au piege.

but they are less finished and highly wrought than these. is making serious progress. Rousseau's Le chat et le vieux rat was reproduced lllustr. Some other parts are too dark. they were wonderfully beautiful.i* whose felicitous passages chief merit is a real artlessness. Besides. it is true. find. but the are entirely successful. it is not enough to paint well. 82. and that is why p. and the modification which distance causes in the mutual effect of tones. " The well-known dealer.WHY SCULPTURE fruits less IS TIRESOME IIQ look quite different. just as one worries at a model. He was already an excellent painter. in fact. " See ^ P. Therefore his painting con- tains several obvious blemishes. Rousseau. whose dazzling and colourful pictures have received such widespread notice. and artist fails to you might suppose take into account that. vol 7 (1846). while painting. Rousseau. . Arondel. the distance from the spectator. The famous Flemish painters all knew how to dispose their dead game and how to go on worrying at it for ages. M. but now he is looking at nature more attentively and he is The saw some ducks by M. that all races bring real skill to the carving of fetishes long before they embark upon the art of We painting. which is an art involving profound thought and one whose very enjoyment demands a particular initiation. Sculpture comes much closer to nature. P. It is quite a different matter with M. and rich and clear tonal harmonies. 88.. ^^ other day at Durand-Ruel's^^ I XVI WHY SCULPTURE THE ORIGIN of sculpture it is IS TIRESOME is lost in the mists of time. thus a Carib art. this all the necessary accidents of the Salon —the adjacent paintings. and really behaved and acted like ducks. p. striving to bring out her particularity of feature. the point was to discover felicitous lines.

and more forceful. sculpture. in is most mag- nothing else but a complementary art. and was as well known for his wit as for liis statuary. Once out of the primitive era. hibits too has at the same time a certain vagueness and ambiguity. will nevertheless remain unmoved in front of the most beautiful painting. of the Caribs. and of serving their intentions. Sculpture has several disadvantages which are a necessary consequence of its means and materials. except for the right one. That ture as is therefore the painter's expression is much why to it is as difiBcult to it is be a bad sculptor. of Germain Pilon. Cathedrals nificent development. who are enchanted by the sight of an ingeniously-turned fragment of wood or stone. it is exclusive no other way of looking and absolute. an effect of the all lamp. 1 am a connoisseur of Michelangelo. Here we have a singular mystery which is quite beyond human solving. whose pure and simple colours. arranged in ac- *Like Theodore Rousseau. however. it Though as brutal and positive as nature herself. because it exmany surfaces at once. which form but one flesh and body with the edifice itself: please note that I am speaking of painted sculptures. of Jean Goujon. there is A picture. It is in vain that the sculptor forces himself to take for the spectator up a unique point of view.120 THE SALON OF 1846 even today our peasants. obvious that he meant the sculpture of the its sculpturizers— in other words. Augusta Pr^ault was systematically refused by the Salon juries from tlie early 1830s until 1848. He was the Romantic sculptor par excellence. may had discover a beauty which in is not at the one the artist mind— and is this is a humiliating it thing for him. . soar up into the sky and load their thousand echoing chasms with sculptures. and it often happens that a chance trick of the Hght. but of becoming a humble associate of painting and architecture. but of sculpture I am a complete It is ignoramus'. who moves around the figure can choose a hundred different points of view. be a connoisseur of sculpI have heard the sculptor Preault^ say. be. It is no longer a question of skilfully carving portable figures. Painting has but one point of view. only what at it wants to than on its o\\ti terms.

e. . they have plumbed the depths of all the schools. it is an isolated art.-F. They would be happy to convert even the tombs of St. in no way conveys the original. which is dry and mean-looking. it is the cue for the Caribs of lace (like M. now at the Comedie Frangaise. the bust is who are still in business. Next we have the Caribs of the andiron. or the Caribs of the wrinkle. At all great periods. Provost.. Versailles shelters her race of statues beneath leafy shades which serve them as background. like M. busts match-boxes. there are no childish trivialities which the sculptor will not dare. angular.WHY SCULPTURE IS TIRESOME 121 cordance with a special scale. Gayrard). and which triumphantly outrun the fetish and the calumet. They are as learned as academicians— or as vaudeviUistes. they are never more than rough approximations. etc.3 or like M. the clock and the writing-desk. David^) to put in an appearance. Last year's bust re- and bas-reliefs—he sembled Jesus Christ. Cumberworth. which takes one's goldsmiths' breath away. employed at the Louvre and at Susse's. motifs.or shawl-boxes. or under arbours of Hving waters which shower upon them the thousand diamonds of the light. harmonize with the rest and complete the poetic effect of the whole. Denis into cigar. the hair and the wart (like M. and all Florentine bronzes into threepenny bits. sculpture is a complement. David d'Angers. "The catalogue makes it clear that Cmnberworth's Marie was the negress slave in Bemardin de Saint-Pierre's Paul et Virginie. When it has become a drawing-room or a bedroom art. Nevertheless you should not suppose that these people lack knowledge. The bust which he has done this year of a very well-known actor^ is no better a likeness than last year's. at the beginning and at the end. As soon as sculpture consents to be seen close at hand. the dealers in decorative sculpture * J. as a statue or a candelabra . sardonic and shifting physiognomy of the model. they make free with all periods and all genres. If you want the fullest information ^i. Cumberworth was regularly employed by Susse freres. who possesses the gift of a universaHty colossal figures. and this year's. is capable of anything. Feuchere. whose Marie is a maid-of-aU-work.-S.

whose successes are less public. and show clearly that without this noble crutch M.122 THE SALON OF 1846 trifling I this frivolous and you should apply to M. Besides this. Lenglet's chief fault. the master of the whole vast workshop. As in the portrait done according to the manner of the naturahsts. '' statue was entitled Une petite jille "Pradier has been described as the Romantic sculptor of the In the Nimes Museum. 'juste-milieu'. . but he has neither the imagination necessary for great compositions. His Poesie Legere^ the all the colder as it is more mannered. Almost all of M. His talent is cold and academic. seen from behind. Klagmann. and their detail does not exclude breadth and ease of execution. They all have a particular distinction. ^ on the contrary. it looks hideous. which demands less imagination and no less delicate— than sculpture on the grand scale. an excess of sincerity in his execuis The bust capacities less lofty— though ^Klagmann's plaster effeuillant une rose. Admittedly this do flesh. execu- not as opulent as in the sculptor's former works. An day is excellent proof of the pitiable state of sculpture to- the fact that artist knows how to M. ® presumably Antoine-Laurent Dantan (1798-1878). It is a more intimate and more restricted art. Dantan's busts^ are done according to the best doctrines. concerning the principles of school. is a certain timidity. it is necessary to have a perfect grasp of the model's essential nature. nor the 'graphic imagination'.^ who is. and. a childishness. and he has his particular re- finements of the chisel. though his younger brotlier Jean-Pierre Dantan (1800-69) also This is exhibited at this Salon. " This was Lenglet's first Salon. and to express its poetic quahty. M. think. He has spent his Me fattening up a small stock of antique torsos coijBFures of and equipping its them with the seems tion is kept women. Pradier^ is its king. Pradier would stumble at a genre every step. for there are few models who completely lack poetry. he has done two bronzes—Armcreon and La Sagesse—which are impudent imitations of the antique.

the anarchistl'* In the same way thump force artistic philosophers and critics should pitilessly apes—emancipated journeymen who hate the of genius. thump again. of the fine arts and of literature. But the republican? what about him? Is he not an essential for any comedy that aims at being gay? and in him have we not a successor to the role of Marquis? ( c. He is the enemy of Watteau. xvn ON SCHOOLS AND JOURNEYMEN If EVER Youn idler's curiosity has landed you in a street brawl. like me. Lenglet's bust is a profound concentration of attention.ON SCHOOLS AND JOURNEYMEN I23 tion. And if so. because there are no longer any types. This little bust—stocky. 'Thump on. they say. a sworn iconoclast and butcher of Venus and Apollo He is no longer willing to help with the public roses and perfumes.b. He wants to be free. but. no one could give a truer and more authentic character to a human face. lacks originality. but he is incapable of founding a factory for new flowers and new scents. I adore thee and judge thee the equal of Jupiter. the enemy of Raphael. perhaps you will have felt the same deHght as I have often felt to see a protector of the public slumbers— policeman or a municipal guard (the real army)—thumping a republican. and the sovereignty *I it often hear people complaining about the theatre of today. ) . the great dealer of justice The man whom thou thumpest is an enemy of roses and of perfumes. on the other hand. and a maniac for utensils. which gives an appearance of dryness to his work. as a humble and anonymous journeyman. poor fool. thimap a little harder. beloved constable for at this supreme thumping. the I 1 bitter enemy of luxury. grave and frowning—has the magnificent character of the best work of the Romans— an idealization discovered in nature herself. you will have said in your heart. Thump him reI ligiously across the shoulder-blades. Another distinguishing quality of antique portraiture which I noticed in M.

colours. there was one under the Empire— a school— that is. a hurly-burly of styles and cacophony of tones. for today no one is obedient. yet grand and stately— and an tricks all absence of httle qualities dition'. now you have eman- cipated journeymen. cliches of all kinds— and all this clearly manifested not only by different pictures in juxtaposition. a unity. men have a right to rule. obedient to the rule of a powerful in all his undertakings. a faith— that is. whose only and the eyes. Few which means the dominion of temperament within is a divine privilege which almost all are without. On leaving the Salon or some newly-decorated chmch. but even within one and the same picture. all is turbulence. a nobihty of movement— are tra- nobility often mannered. result is a terrible weariness for the mind In the other place you are immediately struck by that which causes children to doff their hats and which catches at your soul in the way that the dust of vaults and tombs catches your throat. There were still schools under Louis XV. . But this is by no means the mere effect of yellow varnish or the grime of ages: it is the effect of unity. For a great feeling of reverence it Venetian painting clashes less with a Giulio Romano beside than a group of our pictures— and I do not mean the worst of them— clash amongst themselves. platitudes of gesture and pose. In short. which are and contradictory tactics—these imphed in the phrase 'the great Then you had schools of painting. is a vice peculiar to this age.124 "^^^ SALON OF 1846 Compare the present age with past ages. and naivete. the impossibihty of doubt. for few men have an over- ruhng passion. go and rest your eyes in a museum of old masters. of profound unity. nobihty ^by numbers'. A magnificence of costume. and helping him Doubt. or the absence of faith and of naivete. enormous trivialities. there is a complete absence of In the one. There you found pupils united by common leader. manner. principles. And then analyse the differences.

without digesting it. For strong men are rare. wdthout even finding the glue to stick it on with. The sort of man who today comes into the class of the apes— even the cleverest apes—is not.ON SCHOOLS AND JOURNEYMEN And to 125 as everyone today wants to rule. and even of their happiness. colourists with neither love nor originahty— to-morrow. But outside of this family-circle there is a vast population and mixed breeds. There was a time when he would have made an excellent journeyman: but now he is lost. That is why it would have been more in the interest of their own salvation. will incorporate it into a work composed from an enture tirely different point of view. a floating race of half-castes who each day move from one countiy to another. colourists in the 'chic' manner. and never vdll be. taking away from each the customs which suit them. for himself and for all mankind. Now that everyone is abandoned to his own devices. if the lukewarm had been subjected to the lash of a vigorous faith. and his blind and involuntary dominion extends well beyond his studio. sacrilegious imitators of M. anything but a mediocre painter. Those who are nearer to the word and the idiom of the master preserve the purity of his doctrine. and the present state of painting is the result of an anarchic freedom which glori- . and by obedience and tradition they do what the master does by the fatahty of his nature. as far as regions where his thought cannot be understood. The apes are tibe republicans of art. a master has many unknown pupils for whom he is not responsible. no one knows how govern himself. and seeking to make a personaUty for themselves by of mediocrities— apes of different a system of contradictory borrowings. There are some who change from white to black in a day: yesterday. but without discovering any more taste or faith. There are people who will steal a fragment from a picby Rembrandt. Ingres. and without modifying it. and today you have to be a Delacroix or an Ingres if you are to come to the surface and be seen amid the chaos of an exhausting and sterile freedom.

which are nothing else but organizations of inventive force. And that is justice. for an abundant production is only a mind equipped with the power of a thousand arms.126 fies THE SALON OF 1846 the individual. so fair to say that. the other concerns the studios alone. ch. For they had a vested interest in ceaselessly depicting the past. one has regard to the public and its feelings.b. And just as a well-known chapter of a romantic novel^ has shown that the printed it is book has killed the monument it is of stone. *Ceci tuera cela. (c. But what was this great tradition. and that the new one is not yet established. It is true that the great tradition has got lost. IndividuaHty—that little doubt and this poverty of invention. the painter that has killed the art of painting. of schools.* This dogma of the poor excuse of the which has gained currency among the public. Bk. those individuals who are truly worthy of the name absorb the weak. Notre-Dame de Paris. ii. This glorification of the individual has necessitated the infinite division of the territory of art. A few sublime and long-suffering eccentrics are a poor compensation for this swarming chaos of mediocrity. V. ment The absolute and divergent liberty of each man. the division of effort and the disjunction of the this human will have led to this weakness. however feeble he of may be. and one that could be turned to good account by the lazy. it is an easier task. In schools. is a artists.) . to the detri- commmiities—that is to say. ^ Victor Hugo. everyday idealization of ancient life—a robust and martial form studios.' * These two types of decadence must not be confused. for the time being. xvm ON THE HEROISM OF MODERN LIFE Many people will attribute the present decadence in painting to the decadence in behaviour. if not a habitual. place of one's oumr-has devoured collective originahty.

the outer husk. and the voluptuous queen. It ministered the pleasure of the eye. Before trying to distinguish the epic side of modem hfe.2 As for the garb. centuries we may That is assert that since all and all peoples have had their ours. like all possible phenomena. contain an element of the eternal and an element of the transitory —of the absolute and of the particular. and before bringing examples to prove that our age is no less fertile in sublime themes than past ages. the second. we have in the All forms of beauty. in his attitudes? To movements. Except for Hercules on Mount Oeta. But none of them destroyed himself in order to change skins through metempsychosis. or rather it is only an abstraction creamed from the general surface of difiFerent beauties. (c. Ancient above all to paganism has marvellously served the found its reflection in priwas a great parade. The belief that he committed suicide sidered to be without foundation.^ or even the weird and marvellous suicide of Rafael de Valentin. of gravity in his which gave him a habit of majesty. so inevitably order of things. and this day-to-day life arts. 127 a state of readiness on the part of each individual. ^ is now con- The hero of Balzac's La Peau de Chagrin. The particular element in each manifestation comes from the emotions and just as we have our own particular emotions. ) * Rousseau. al- though the time is past when every Httle artist dressed up as a grand panjandrum and smoked pipes as long as duck* The first killed himself because he could no longer endure his burning shirt. or violence. and this should be added vate a public splendour vv^hich life.ON THE HEROISM OF MODERN LIFE of life. own form of beauty. of the modern hero.b. what suicides do you find represented in the old masters? You will search in vain among pagan existences— existences : dedicated to appetite—for the suicide of Jean-Jacques. because there was nothing more that he could do for the cause of liberty. because she had lost both her throne and her lover. Absolute and eternal beauty does not exist. so we have our own beauty. . Cato of Utica and Cleopatra (whose suicides are not modern suicides*).

their task is glorious. . Jules Barbey d'Aurevilly's book on Dandyism^ will see clearly that it is a modern thing. much which more than their in colour. they have understood all this very well—the former. too. has not this much-abused garb its own beauty and its native charm? Is it not the necessary garb of our suffering age. resulting from causes entirely new. colours used easily to betray whose violent and contrasting them to the eye. but also their poetic beauty. Eugene Lami* and M. THE SALON OF 1846 nevertheless the studios and the world at large are of people who would hke to poeticize Antony with a Greek cloak and a parti-coloured vesture. 172-4. and young men life * The prose-drama Antony was produced in 1831. the poet of oflScial dandyism. that the dress-coat and the frock-coat not only possess their poHtical beauty. Gavami^ are not geniuses of the highest order. the latter the poet of a raflSsh and reach-me-down dandyisml The reader who turns again to M. and as for the eccentrics. Look at those grinning creases play like serpents around mortified flesh—have they not own mysterious grace? Although M. see pp. le 3 Septembre 1843. which wears the symbol of a perpetual mourning even upon its thin black shoulders? Note. Great colourists know how thereby only the more to create colour with a black coat. still full . ^ On Gavami. bourgeois mutes . were popularly known Lami exhibited an oil-painting. . a white cravat and a grey background. which is an expression of universal equality. We are each of us celebrating some funeral. became a powerful hero-figure of the who cast themselves for this role in real as 'Antonys'. Le grand bal masquS de I'Opera. For if it is more difficult. which is an expression of the public soul—an immense cortege of undertaker's mutes (mutes in love. today they are satisfied with slight nuances in design in cut. Let not the tribe of the colourists be too indignant. A uniform Hvery of affiction bears witness to equality. ^ Dumas tlie elder's central character times.128 rifles. political mutes. La reine Victoria duns le Salon de famille au chateau d'Eu. 'Barbey d'Aurevilly's Du Dandy sme et de Georges Brummell had been published the previous year.). and a watercolour.^ But all the same.

murderer for the re- rebel. shouting: "Leave me my courage intact!" I This last sentence alludes to the grave-side braggadocio of a criminal— a great protestant. 1' heroism 1 little later—*I hear that K.ON THE HEROISM OF MODERN LIFE But which artists 129 to is retmn to our principal and essential problem. fitted to understand modern beauty Or again— The sublime rascal! Even Byron's pirates are less lofty and disdainful. or less.—has been commissioned to do a medal on the subject. The pageant of fashionable life and the thousands of floating existences—criminals and kept women—which drift selves with public about in the underworld of a great city. courage was unabashed in the face of the very to Lacenaire engine of deathl^ reference is (1800-36). deserter. Would you believe it—he jostled the Abbe Montes aside. Even so.— or F. they do it with an ill grace. whose career became a Romantic symbol . how handsome he was! I have never seen such scorn So there are such things as modern beauty and modem to his scorn him— to chief-maldng oppositions. the Gazette des Tribunaux and the Moniteur all prove to us that we have only to open our eyes to recognize our heroism. robust of whose 'The and fierce body and mind. and literally fell upon the guillotine.' So artists can be more. I observe that the majority of who have attacked modem life have contented them- and official subjects—with our victories and our political heroism. However there are private subjects which are very much more heroic than these. and only because they are commissioned by the government which pays them. but he won't know And a how to do it—he has no understanding for these things. Suppose that a minister. baited by the opposition's impudent questioning. to discover whether we possess a specific beauty. has given expression once and for all —with that proud and sovereign eloquence which is proper and disgust for all ignorant and misThe same evening you will hear the following words buzzing round you on the Boulevard des Italiens— ^Were you in the Chamber today? and did you see the minister? Good Heavens. intrinsic to our new emotions.

The jects. that necessary element of success—is just as frequent and necessary today as it was in the life of the ancients. the most extraordinary. or in the anatomy theatre. the prison of ® The Abbe Montes was La Grande Roquette. but is a new element—modern beauty. for example. Honore de Balzac. The nude—that darHng of the artists. life of our city is rich in poetic and marvellous sub- We are enveloped and steeped as though in an atmos- phere of the marvellous. For the heroes of the Iliad are but pigmies compared to you. Baudelaire had published a satirical article at Balzac's expense. ^"A few months before. ce gros enfant bouffe de genie et de vanite / . The hero of Balzac's play Les ressources de Quinola (1842) which was set in the 16th century— the period of doublet and ^ hose. . . The themes and resources of painting are equally abundant and varied. in bed. Fontanares. entitled Comment on paie des dettes quand on a du gdnie. or in the bath. et le plus vaniteux des personnages de la ComSdie humaine. cet original aussi insupportable dans la vie que delicieux dans ses ecrits. Vautrin.130 THE SALON OF 1846 All these words that fall from your lips bear witness to youi beHef in a new and special beauty. There occurred here a passage strikingly similar in form. but with a marked difference of epithet: lui [Balzac] le personnage le plus cocasse.^ who dared not pubHcly declaim your sorrows in the funereal and tortured frock-coat which we all wear today!— and you. Rastignac and Birotteaul^— and you. you the most heroic. lui. le plus interessant. senior chaplain at Well-known characters from Balzac's novels. which is neither that of Achilles nor yet of Agamemnon. but we do not notice it. the most romantic and the most poetic of all the characters that you have produced from your wombl^^ there volt against society.

weighty or frivolous. is purely an artist's and a philosopher's article. conceived and perhaps written some years before publication. One kind have value only by reason of the fact which they represent. In caricature. A . an immense gallery of anecdote. ) Caricaturists. 1857. The task still remains to be done. Nevertheless I have made every effort to impose some order. No doubt they have a right to the attention of the historian. that all three articles were part of a larger whole. with the addition of the succeeding articles on French (1st Oct. ) and Foreign ( 15th Oct. facts relative to the disposition of the nation or to fashion— would be a glorious and important work. and thus to make their digestion more easy. There is evidence. and even the philosopher.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER. however. there are two sorts of works which are to be prized and commended for different and almost contrary reasons. 8th July 1855. understood in this way. reprinted. These reflections had become a kind of obsession for me. far more than in the other branches of art. for the essays which have been published up to the present are hardly more than raw materials. It is clear that a work on caricature. But I thought that this task should be divided. and I wanted to get them off my chest. No doubt a general history of caricature in its references to all the facts by which humanity has been stirred— facts political and religious. 1st Sept. they deserve to take their place in the national archives. IN GENERAL. ON THE COMIC IN THE PLASTIC ARTS^ HAVE no intention of writing a treatise on caricature: I simply want to acquaint the reader with certain reflections I which have often occurred to me on the subject of this singular genre. with minor variations. AND. work to be entitled 'De la Caricature' was announced pour paraitre prochainement' as early as 1845. in the biographical ^Earliest traced publication in Le Vortefeuille. then. or nearly finished. in Le PrSsent. would be a history of facts. and there are several references in Baudelaire's correspondence of 1851-2 to a work on caricature being finished. This. the archaeologist.

let the comedy of them without noticing any of its symptoms. there be that obscure and mysterious element which no philosophy has so far analysed to its depths? We are going to concern ourselves. It my ears at academicians' was these fine fellows Robert Macaire^ great moral and slip past literary temporaries of Rabelais. and one truly worthy of attention. 168 below) Daumier developed the character in a famous series of caricatures. What a curious thing. then. have we got to show that nothing at all that issues from man is frivolous in the eyes of a philosopher? Surely. then. tireless they are swept out of sight by the same breeze which supplies us with fresh ones. . Caricature is not a genre.13^ registers of ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER human thought. would reply. article. to snatch a few coppers from the obliging administration? A doubt assails me. I have heard similar heresies ringing in dinners. Later (see p. is the introduction of this indefinable element of beauty. If they had been conthey would have treated him as a who base and uncouth buffoon. lasting. In truth. like a band of miserly ghosts. which recommends them to the attention of artists. even in works which are intended to represent his proper ugliness—both moral and physical—to man! And what is no less mysterious is that this lamentable spectacle excites in him an undying and incorrigible mirth. at the very least. with the essence of laughter and with the component elements of caricature. their cronies they would ask. Like the flysheets of journalism. in the 1820s. is the true subject of my with a formal demonwhich no doubt will be raised by certain spiteful pundits of solemnitycharlatans of gravity. then. pedantic corpses which have emerged from the icy vaults of the Institut and have come again to the land of the living. Here. Should I reply stration to the kind of preliminary question First of all. ^ re- The character of Robert Macaire ( in the play VAuherge des Adrets) had been created by the actor Frederick Lemaitre. will Later. But the others— and it is with these that I want to concern myself especially— contain a mysterious. eternal element. we shall examine some of the most markable works produced in this genre. is Caricature a genre? No. perhaps.

From what from what completely orthodox pen. . 63-6. did this strange and striking maxim fall?^ Does it come to us from the Philosopher-King of Judea? Or should we attribute it to Joseph de Maistre. ^ On Baudelaire's debt to Joseph de Maistre. see Gibnan p.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER 133 in fear and trembling. see Gikaan pp.^ that soldier quickened The Sage laughs not save authority-laden lips. 32. T. n. 237. Clapton. ^Lavater's remark 'Le Sage sourit souvent et lit rarement' {Souvenirs pour des voyageurs cheris) has been suggested by G.

as though some residue of uneasiness and anxiety must stiU be left him. then. the relentless Christian psychologist. The Sage trembles at the thought of having laughed. just as he fears the lustful shows of this world. then.134 ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER with the Holy Spirit? I have a vague memory of having read it in one of his books. the Word has all Incarnate. here an author— a Christian. Such severity of thought and style suits well with the majestic saintHness of Bossuet. But come. and I wanted to get rid of it at the very start. je vous hais. let us analyse this curious proposition— is The Sage. the apanage of " it would result that laughter is generally madmen. He stops short on the brink of laughter. but given as a quotation. I would point out— and this perfectly corroborates the officially Christian character of the maxim— that all the Sage par excellence. a certain secret contradiction between his special nature as Sage and the primordial nature of laughter. Let us make a note of this. as on the brink of temptation. In the first place. and that it always implies more le This suggests a line in a poem by Baudelaire's friend Gustave Vavasseur. Incarnate knew anger. 237. but the elliptical turn of the thought and its quintessential refinement would lead me rather to attribute the honour to Bourdaloue. without doubt—who considers it as a certain fact that the Sage takes a very good look before allowing himself to laugh. finger tips. that to say he who is quickened with the spirit of Our Lord. There is. n. 32. Jesus na jamais ri. does not fear according to the Sage. . In fact. never laughed. to do no more than touch in passing upon memories which are more than solemn. See also Gibnan p. the comic vanishes altogether from the point of view of absolute knowledge and power. This singular maxim has kept recurring to my mind ever since I first conceived the idea of my article. if we inverted the is two propositions. published in 1843.^ In the eyes of One who knowledge and And yet the Word power. no doubt. Now. And secondly. the comic does not exist. Dieux joyeux. he who has the divine formulary at his abandon himself to laughter save in and trembling. He even knew tears. the Sage fears laughter.

Laughter and grief are expressed by the organs in which the command and the knowledge of good and evil reside—I mean the eyes and the mouth. May I be permitted a poetic hypothesis in order to help Philippe de Chennevieres (c.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER or less of ignorance ever. and the laughter which now shakes the nations never distorted the features of his face. it is to take the point of view is of in- the orthodox mind. joy did not find dwelling in laughter. to I35 and weakness. and had a distinguished career in the official world of art. In the earthly paradise—whether one supposes it as past or to come. The exact source of this idea has not been traced among his works. for which I should without doubt be insufficiently equipped with compass or sails. nor all the seductive cunning of the serpent into his eyes—yet he beguiles with his tears. you are prepared. that is to say in the surroundings in which it seemed to its man that all created things were good.* From the point of view of my Christian philosopher. then. Observe also that it is with his tears that man washes the afflictions of man.). an early friend of BaudeHe wrote a number of books. They are both equally the children of woe. '^ laire's. for the phenomena engendered by the Fall will become the means of redemption. Laughter and tears cannot make their appearance in the paradise of delights. in the sense of the theologians or of the socialists—in the earthly paradise. a memory or a prophecy. and they came because the body of enfeebled man lacked the strength to restrain them. I am content just to indicate these singular horizons to the reader—to point them out to him embark recklessly with If my finger. the laugh on his hps is a sign of just as great a misery as the tears in his eyes. howupon a theological ocean. timately certain that human laughter Hnked with the accident of an ancient Fall. The Being who sought to multiply his own image has in no wise put the teeth of the lion into the mouth of manyet man rends with his laughter. . and that it is with his laughter that sometimes he soothes and charms his heart. As no trouble afflicted him.b. I have no wish. man's countenance was simple and smooth. of a debasement both physical and moral.

just as a few books suffice the Sage. a Gavarni of her times. modest and mean Httle church. She is finked to humanity both by her birth and her love. overflowing place. sea- mists and gilded by the tropic sun. at the Palais-Royal. and one of the best— some insulting satire against the follies of the court. full of clotted blood and spiced with a monstrous 'Goddam!' or two: or. her Paul. Let us suppose some broad buffoonery of the prizering. God she has known in the church of Les Pamplemotisses—a. and in the vastness of the indescribable tropic sky and the immortal music of the forests and the torrents. or the nocturnal escapades of is the proverbial Autrichienne. all imbued as she is with the pure and rich scents of the East. full-blown with gall and spite. by her mother and her lover. at a glazier's window. . in the unquenched ardours of a love which is unaware of itself. in a pubHc she falls and into the midst of a turbulent. From Bemardin de Saint-Pierre's Faul et Virginie. some British enormity. on a table. if this is more to the taste of your curious imagination. who is as angefic as she and whose sex knows no distinction from hers. so to speak. from the hands of Nature. so to speak. For our example let us take the great and typical figure of Virginie.^ the vile activities of a great favourite. let us suppose before the eye of our virginal Virginie some charming and enticing morsel of lubricity. let us try to imagine before us a soul absolutely pristine and fresh. and one many people may of diabolic origin. mountains Here and mephitic civilization. "Marie Antoinette.^ who perfectly symbolizes absolute purity still and naivete. Now one day by chance. Louis XV's private brothel at VersaiUes. Certainly Virginie is a noble inteUigence. Virginie's eye falls all upon— a caricaturel a caricature very tempting for us.^ Caricature * ^ a double thing.136 ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER me prove the accuracy of these assertions. which otherwise find tainted with the a priori of mysticism? Since the comic is a damnable element. her eyes full of great primitive images of waves. Virginie arrives in Paris bathed in forests. just such as a shrewd and bored civilization knows how to make them. but a few images and a few memories suffice her. some plastic diatribe against the Parc-aux-Cerfs. in all innocence.

And a network of such elements gives trouble to a simple mind which is accustomed to understand by intuition things as simple as itself. let us simply record the fear and the suffering of the immaculate angel brought face to face with caustic caricature. that shudder of a soul that veils herself and wants to draw back? The angel has sensed that there is oflFence in it. now she gazes. if there ever was one! And what pride and delusion! For it is a notorious fact that all the madmen in the asylums have an excessively overdeveloped idea of their own superiority: I hardly know of any who suffer from the madness of humility. one of the numerous pips contained in the symbolic apple. A Satanic idea. Nevertheless their discovery is not very profound and hardly goes very far.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER it is I37 both drawing and idea— the drawing violent. I should not be surprised if. But for the moment. I teU you. do you observe that sudden folding of the wings. laughter will come too: we shall see why. comes from superiority. No doubt. m is one of the man. And yet. Nevertheless she hardly understands either what it means or what it is for. Virginie has glimpsed. on making this discovery. that laughter is one of the most frequent and numerous expressions of If you wished to demonstrate that the comic clearest tokens of the Satanic in . the physiologist had burst out laughing himself at the thought of his own superiority. Therefore he should have said: Laughter comes from the idea of one's own superiority. whether she has understood it or not. it would be enough to draw attention to the unanimous agreement of physiologists of laughter on the primary ground of this monstrous phenomenon. they say. And in truth. Note. Why? She is gazing at the unknown. too. if Virginie remains in Paris and knowledge comes to her. Laughter. in our capacity as analysts and critics who would certainly not dare to assert that our inteUigence is superior to that of Virginie. she will be left with some strange element of uneasiness— something which resembles fear. the idea and veiled.

or stumbhng at the end of a pavement. once fallen. 'Look at me! I am walking upright. if they did not all understand it. he may even have broken an essential member. at the very least. damned and fatally marked with to ear.' you an involuntary spasm a sneeze and prompted by the sight of somestriking token of debihty could The Romantic school. It is certain that if you care to explore this situation. or. what is there so delightful in the sight of a man falling on the ice or in the street. are in the a grin which nans from ear illegiti- pure orthodoxy of laughter. symptom of failing. to put its it better. you will find a certain unconscious pride at the core of the laughter's thought. be more learned from the point and she will laugh. ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER And now. had a proper under- standing of this primordial law of laughter. Nevertheless the laugh has gone forth. That is the point of departure. or at least. school. and. When upon Virginie. she will of the world. the Satanic which is one of subdivisions. sudden and irrepressible. sensed it it and appHed accursed. Furthermore the grand-children. The misfortune is sometimes of a very much lower kind— a failure in the physical order. see how everything falls into place. I would never be so silly as to fail to see a gap in die pavement or a cobblestone blocking the way. comparable to one else's misfortune? This misfortune is almost always a mental failing. even in their grossest extravagances and exaggerations. has declined by one degree of in purity. and the muscles of his face should suddenly leap into life like a timepiece at midday or a clockwork toy? The poor devil has disfigmred himself. all. All the miscreants of melodrama. that the countenance of his brother in Christ should contract in such an intemperate manner. I said that laughter contained a in fact. the idea of her own superiority will begin to dawn view her. what more demand than a nervous convulsion. And can you imagine a phenomenon more deplorable than one failing taking delight in another? But there is worse to follow. exactly. 'Look at me! I am not falling. To take one of the most commonplace examples in life.138 madness. legitimate or they are almost all .' he seems to say.

his bodily organs can no longer sustain his thought.^ that great Reverend Maturin. .P. tion as for it is for ever performing its func- lacerates sins there and scorches the hps can be no remission. how he laughs. he so intelligent. Capton. See G. which is infinitely great in relation to man. It is —you must understand— the necessary resultant of his contradictory double nature. . highest expression of pride. he for whom a part of the conditional laws of mankind. than the pale. like a malady which continues on its way and completes a destined course. 302. 'Balzac. C. both physical and intellectual. bored figure of Melmoth? And yet he has a weak and contemptible side to him. Ill. p. June and Sept. 1930.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER Satanic creation of the I39 mate. R. no longer exist! And this laughter is the perpetual explosion of his rage and his suffering.. the Rev. was revealed in his desire to make a on the grounds that the existing transla- was inadequate. T.' French Quarterly. and Baudelaire's great admiration for it new French tion translation. It is a laugh which never sleeps. therefore. of the renowned wanderer Melmoth. What could be what more mighty.' Melmoth (2nd ed. ^ . Baudelaire and Maturin. which is the against the light. See.. vol. And thus the laughter of Melmoth. Ecstasy only smiles— despair laughs . Maturin (1782-1824). see how he ceaselessly compares himself to the caterpillars of humanity. has often been the only intelligible language of madness and misery. 1951) pp. which never yet was the expression of rapture. And that is why his laughter freezes and wrings his entrails. 1824). He has parted company with the fundamental conditions of life. see also Mario Praz. Melmoth is a living contradiction. It was one of the most influential of all the novels of horror.U. he so strong. and infinitely vile and base in relation to absolute Truth and Justice. relative to poor hmnanity. 116-8. which faces against God and greater.. The Romantic Agony (O. 2nd ed.^ of the laugher whose ^Melmoth the Wanderer (1820) was tlie masterpiece of its author. as he laughs. *A mirth which is not riot gaiety is often the mask which hides the convulsed and distorted features of agony— and laughter.

and establish more which amount to a sort satanic: it is of theory of laughter. have no conception of caricature and have no comedy (Holy Books never laugh. the last to laugh at his a philosopher. say that it is. for the animals do not hold themselves superior minerals. we see that primitive nations. in fact. but that as they advance little by Httle in the direction of the cloudy peaks of the intellect. for example. laughter is a sign of inferiority in relation to the wise. in these selfsame ultra-civilized . essentially contradictory. that at to once a token of an infinite grandeur and an infinite misery— the latter in relation to the absolute Being of whom man has an inkHng. unless rapid self-division and thus of assisting as a disinterested phenomena of his own ego. the nations of the world begin to laugh diaboHcally with the laughter of Melmoth. in the same way as Virginie. the former in relation to the beasts. For that matter. or as they pore over the of metaphysics. of his It is the consequence in man is of the idea own it is superiority. gloomy braziers and finally we see that if. But such cases The most comic animals are the most seriousmonkeys. The comic and the capacity for laughter are situated in the laugher and by no means in the object of his laughter.140 ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER IV And now let us recapitulate a little clearly our principal propositions. and parrots. It is from the perpetual coUision of these two infinites that laughter is struck. who. to the vegetables. to whatever nations they may belong). there would be no such spectator at the are rare. thing as the comic. The man who trips would be he happened to be one who had acquired by habit a power of own faU. approach a childlike state. if man were to be banished from creation. nor the vegetables to the While it is a sign of superiority in relation to brute creation (and under this heading I include the numerous pariahs of the mind). Laughter is thus proessentially is foundly human. Comparing mankind with man. And since laughter human. through the contemplative iimocence of their minds. as we have a right to do.

mystical prophets.^ * equipped with wings and all fuU of deep seriousVenus.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER nations. before they can achieve the absolute purification promised by certain one's As the comic own superiority. the little Priapi. and for the understanding of evil. a power proportionate to that which it has won for good. For this very thing is a condition of our general intellectual power. or of a belief in it is natural to hold that. Pan and Hercules were in no sense figures Fuchs. too. But the comic changes its nature. 'Das Curious readers will find examples reproduced in Geschichte der erotischen Kunst. I am quite prepared for sworn dissenters to cite the classic tale of the philosopher who died of laughing when he saw a donkey eating figs. it wins for evil. their type of the comic is still not quite the same as ours. will be as void of laughter as is the soul of the Sage.' . the result of which is called pastiche. then the resulting poetry. the bronze figurines. In this way the angelic and the diaboHc elements function in parallel. those monstrous engines of generation. I would reply that. book 2. And this is why I find nothing surprising in the fact that we. the Hercules (aU muscles). As for the grotesque figures which antiquity has bequeathed us—the masks. who are the children of a better law than the reHgious laws of antiquity—we. I4I some mind is driven by superior ambition to pass beyond the limits of worldly pride and to make a bold leap towards pure poetry. I. Altertum. the nations of the world will see a multiphcation of comic themes in proportion as their superiority increases. bells— I believe that these things are ness. and we can really only adopt by a backward effort of mind. from the fact and there had already been a considerable shrinkage of belief. It even has it a touch of barbarity about it. with tongue curled in air and pointed ears (aU cranium and phallus). the favoured disciples of Jesus— should possess a greater number of comic elements than pagan antiquity. is a sign of superiority. quite apart that these periods were essentially civilized. and as for those prodigious phalluses on which the white daughters of Romulus innocently ride astride. 1908. vol. or even the comedies of Aristophanes and those of Plautus. As humanity uplifts itself. as limpid and profound as Nature herself.

Sometimes it it is expresses itself in tears. but it has various almost invisible. Christians. feehng. even as a form. symbols of power. the laughter of children. But of all we ought make a proper distinction between itself. aesthetic The mind that is least accustomed to these subtleties would very quickly be able to counter with the insidious objection that there are diferent is not always a disaster. but even things that tickle the palate of artists. or man who from the attends a play. at all events. a faiHng or an inferiority in which we take our delight. or.142 of fun. It me only the amusements of childhood. Joy is a unity. a diagnostic. at others. Many sights which provoke our laughter are perfectly innocent. I beHeve that the ancients were full of respect for drum-majors and for doers of mighty deeds of all kinds. even as a physical expression. Laughter is the expression of a double. to and with laugh at the aid of Plato and Seneca. Indian ridiculous. from the laughter of a caricature. the outcast of society. and that none of those extravagant fetishes which I instanced a moment ago were anything other than tokens of adoration. or terrible laughter of who looks at a Meknoth— of Melmoth. in no are sense were they intentionally comic emanations of the fancy. or contradictory. that men began them. Laughter only an expression. and that is the reason why a convulsion occurs. sides. And so. and Chinese idols are unaware that they it is in us. that their comicaHty re- It would be a mistake to suppose that we have got rid of every diflBculty. is There first certainly some semblance to of truth in that. is laughter and joy. Joy exists in manifestations. wandering somewhere between the last boundaries of the territory of mankind and . many of the to have nothing do with the spirit of Satan. It ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER was not until after the coming of Christ. not varieties of laughter. which I hold for a vain objection. is altogether difiEerent. a symptom. Symptom of what? That is the question.

of Meknoth. Now human pride. Fabulous creations. to budding Satans. but of man over natinre. I think that is we should hold that this is not entirely exempt from ambition. often provoke in us an insane and excessive mirth. It eral. of living. which always takes the upper hand and is the natural cause of laughter in the case of the comic. And so. the joy of contemplating. is It is the joy of receiving. which is his disaster. It is easy to guess that I am referring to the laughter caused by the grotesque. of growing. for the pure conscience of a simpleton. for this is a creation mixed with little men—that But there is a certain imitative faculty—imitative. of elements is mean that in this case laughter an idea of superiority— no longer now of man over man. as scraps of because their laughter is only proper to is. which expresses itself in interminable paroxysms and swoons. that would be no sufficient reason for rejecting it. For the laughter of children is Hke the blossoming of a flower. beings whose authorit)' and raison d'itre cannot be drawn from the code of common sense. turns out to be the natural cause of laughter in the case of the grotesque too. the comic is an imitation: the grotesque a creation. which is his envy. that pre-existing in nature. and that here we have a higher degree of the phenomenon. Do not retort that this idea is too subtle. I43 life. From the artistic point of view. in gen- more like a smile— something analogous to the wagging still of a dog's tail. It is clear that a distinction must be made. it is a vegetable joy. or the purring of a cat. The difficulty is to find another plausible explanation. that is to say with an artistic ideality. I stiU the expression of is. The comic is an imitation mixed with a certain creative faculty. one case where the question is more complicated. who ahvays be on the point of freedom from his and longs without ceasing to barter that superhuman power. the joy of breathing.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER the frontiers of the higher believes himself to infernal pact. It is the laughter of man— but a true and violent laughter— at the sight of an object which is neither a sign of weakness nor of disaster among his fellows. If this one seems far-fetched and . And if there remains some distinction between the laughter of children and such expressions of animal contentment.

which is much closer to the innoand to absolute joy than is the laughter caused by utiHty. and that is laughter— immediate laughter. From now onwards I shall call the grotesque 'the absolute comic'. the man who until now has been the most sensitive to these ideas. and one easier for the stand. emerges as a unity which calls for the intuition to grasp it.144 ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER just a little hard to accept. visibly man in the street to under- and above all easier to analyse. cites On . There is but one criterion of the grotesque. The comic can it is only be absolute in relation to fallen humanity. Thus the grotesque dominates the comic from a proportionate height. From the point of view of the is definitive absolute. Thus. Whereas with the significative comic it is quite permissible to laugh a moment late— that is no argument against its validity. is TTieodore Hoffmann. in antithesis to the ordinary comic.^ He always made a proper distinction ^ Hojffmann. cent life primitive and axiomatic. Hewett-Thayer's Hoffmann. and who set a good part of them in action in his purely aesthetic..U. and this in way that I am understanding VI In its triple-distilled essence the absolute comic turns out to be the prerogative of those superior artists whose minds are sujfficiently open to receive any absolute ideas at all. which I shall call 'the significative comic'. 1948). But the absolute comic. Author of the Tales (Princeton and O. see H. as well as his creative work. all that remains it. there the comic in man's behaviour. and on the particular stories which Baudelaire in this section. Nevertheless we should be on our guard.P. W. its element being double— art and the moral idea. I have called it 'the absolute comic'. which comes much closer to nature. Setting aside the question of is the same difference between these two sorts of laughter as there is between the implicated school of v^riting and the school of art for art's sake. it all depends upon one's quickness of analysis. that is because the laughter caused by the grotesque has about it something profound. joy. The latter is a clearer language.

First of all it can be estabUshed according to a pure philosophic law. the second is based upon the kind of special capacities possessed by each artist. any German or English artist is more or less naturally equipped for the absolute comic. It should be observed that each term of each classification can be completed and given a nuance by the adjunction of a term from one of the others. In France. just as the synonymous expression of the innocent variety. If you exaggerate and push the consequences of the significative comic to their furthest hmits. within the absolute and significative types of the comic we find species. and at the same time he is more or less of an ideaHzer. pushed one degree further. I wish now to try and give selected examples of the absolute and significative comic. or thrown out in the form of inspired conversations or critical dialogues. and briefly to characterize the comic spirit proper to one or two eminently artistic nations. The learned theories which he had put forth didactically. you reach the savage variety. Thus. he often sought to boil down into creative works. The first is brought about by the primary separation of the absolute from the significative comic. sub-species and families. the land of lucid thought and demonstration. and to pin a sample under each categori- Furthermore. and it is from these very works that I shall shortly draw my most striking examples when I come to give a series of applications of the above- stated principles. cal heading. where the natural and direct aim of art is utility. as I was making a start to do: and then according to the law of artistic creation. before coming on to the section in which I want to discuss and analyse at greater length the talent of those men who have made it their study and their whole existence. we gen- . And finally it is also possible to establish a classification of varieties of the comic with regard to cHmates and various national aptitudes.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER I45 between the ordinary comic and the type which he called 'the innocent comic'. just as the law of grammar teaches us to modify a noun by an adjective. The on different grounds. is the abdivision can take place solute comic.

At long intervals we see the vein reappear. His of superiority. the absolute and the profound. As for the essentially French comedy in the Contes of Voltaire. every science and every art an avoidance of the excessive. are very well The Princess endowed in this and Brambilla. there is consequently but little of the savage variety to be found in this country. It was at the very heart of Italy. preserves an element of utility and reason in the very midst of his most prodigious fantasies. carefree Italy abounds in the innocent variety. v^ll afiFord us excellent specimens of the absolute comic.146 ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER erally find the significative type. that Theodore HoflFmann discerningly placed his eccentric drama. but it is not an essentially national one. and the camivalesque figures of Callot. noisy. and since one of the symptoms in of every emotion. however. Happy. for example. In this context I should mention certain interludes of Moliere. . it is entirely significative. in the midst of the turbulent Corso. its raison d'etre is always based upon the idea symbolic. But since at the root of our character there is an aversion for is all extremes. Germany. in the same way our grotesque seldom rises to the absolute. who is the great French master of the grotesque. profound and excessive. sunk in her dreams. we shall find this dominant spirit. There all is weighty. He is directly France comedy nearly always possesses the transparence of an allegory. It v/ill be a long time before that I I English at pantomime saw played. To find true comic savagery. The Spaniards They are quick to arrive at the cruel stage. In French caricature. Rabelais. you have to cross the Channel and visit the foggy realms of spleen. matter. at the hub of the southern carnival. in the plastic expression of the comic. In this genre Moliere is our best expression. their most grotesque fantasies forget the first often contain a dark element. It was some years ago. It must be admitted that the enormous poetic good humour which is required for the true grotesque is found but rarely among us in level and continuous doses. which are unfortunately too little read or acted— those of the Malade Imaginaire and the Bourgeois Gentilhomme.

and provides evidence for dating the pantomime to the early 1840s when he ironically assigns the fragment to an article by Baudelaire 'sous presse depuis quinze ans seulement'. A review of this pantomime by Gautier. supple and mute as the serpent. that was the important thing. Champfleury quotes the whole passage in his Souvenirs des Funambules. 256-7. 14th Aug. in La Presse.. It seemed to me that the distinctive mark of this type of the comic was violence. according to infonnation kindly supplied by the Bibliotheque de I'Arsenal. long and straight as a gibbet— that artificial man activated by eccentric springs. 1842. Pierrot was not the figure to which the latelamented Deburau had accustomed us— that figure pale as the moon. ^ . They were EngHsh. Tom Matthews). he gives special praise to the clown's costume.— Clown: Matthews (presumably the well-known clown.' performed at the Theatre des Varietes from the 4th until tlie 13th August. in order —that these were vulgar. But that was not the point. First. and changes of horizon upset their vision. Its taste is its not very cosmopoHtan. 1842. secondly.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER will I47 the Theatre des Yarietes? Doubtless only a few people remember it.Una fee: Anne Plowman— Reine des fees: Emilie Fitzj (?).— Colombine: Miss Maria Frood. fell down hke a sack of coals. and those poor Enghsh mimes had a sad reception from us. for very few seem to have taken to this kind of theatrical diversion. I propose to prove it with a few samples from my memories. has several points of agreement with Baudelaire's description. and It has not proved possible to identify this pantomime beyond doubt. pp. it seems more than likely that it was a production entitled 'Arlequin. finally. mediocre artists—understudies. he refers to the incident of the clown's stealing his own head and stuffing it into his pocket (though the guillotine is not mentioned). 1859. however. I was excessively struck by way of understanding the comic. Gautier describes the apathy of the audience. First of all. The newspaper Le Corsair (4th August) gives the following cast:—Arlequin: Howell. The French pubhc does not much like to be taken out of its element. pantomime anglaise en 3 actes et 11 tableaux. mysterious as silence. It was said— chiefly to explain their lack of success by the indulgent. but. Speaking for myself. —Pantalon: Carders. The EngHsh Pierrot swept upon us hke a hurricane.

there. her mop. thin man. it was basically the same as that in- of the Pierrot difference. with passionate was the dizzy height of hyperbole. was man. two enormous patches of pure red. anyone who remembers observing the phanerogamous habits of the monkeys in their famous cage at the Jardin des Plantes can imagine it for himself. by means of two bands of carmine. her bucket. he stuck both fists just and both feet into his mouth. whom we all know—heedlessness and of and consequently the gratification of every kind greedy and rapacious whim. water and all! As for the way in which he endeavoured to express his love to her. gusto. Pierrot walks past a woman who is scrubbing her door- he makes to stuff into his own her sponge. do not know. add that the woman's role was taken by a very long. after rifling her pockets.. The only dif- ference was that where Deburau would the tip of his finger with his have moistened tongue. He was a short. presumably to lead up to what we were to see next. Perhaps I ought to step. Why tlie guillotine rather than the gallows. It was truly an intoxication of laughter— something both terrible and irresistible. engine of death. he wore a bejubilant person As for his moral nature. A feigned prolongation of the lips. it And in the everything else in this singular piece was expressed same way. the up on the French boards which were markedly surprised at this romantic novelty. now of Cassandre or Leandre.. and like a joyful clap of thunder. brought it about that when he laughed his mouth seemed to run from ear to ear. Upon his floured face he had stuck. Pierrot had in the end to be guillotined. or angoras with their fur. crudely and without transition or gradation. there it was. very whose outraged modesty emitted shrill screams. After struggling and bellowing like an ox that scents the . to increase his imposingness ribboned costume which encompassed his as birds are encompassed with their down and feathers. now at the expense of Harlequin. For some misdeed or other. set Anyway.148 ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER his laughter when he laughed his laugh fat made the auditorium quake. in I the land of Albion? .

His head was severed from his neck— a great red and white head. and. all of a sudden. Therefore. She promises him her protection. The extraordinary gestures executed by Leandre. we breathe intoxication. Pierrot and Cassandre make . And then. and. Colombine and Leandre are facing the public. the split vertebrae and all the details of a piece of butcher's meat just dressed for the counter. At once a dizzy intoxication is abroad.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER I49 slaughter-house. and has taken charge of each one of them. it is intoxication that fills the lungs and renews the blood in the arteries. The rivalry between Harlequin and Leandre has just declared itself. Cassandre. more cirit cimaspection than the great Denis. she is the eternal protectress of mortals who are poor and in love. she waves her wand in the air with a mysterious and authoritative gesture. purged and concentrated. the quintessence of comedy. intoxication swims in the air. gentle and good as gold. showing the bleeding disk of the neck. which rolled noisily to rest in front of the prompter's box. it is the pure comic element. A fairy takes Harlequin's side. at last Pierrot bowed to his fate. jumped it its feet. The principal characters. Harlequin. in the sense of absolute comedy— or if I may call it so. Pierrot. But could the pen rival the pantomime? The pantomime is the refinement. A few quips from Pierrot can give no more than a pale idea of what he v^ll be doing shordy. a prologue filled with a high aesthetic. proceeded to stuff pocket 1 Set down in pen and ink. triumphantly own head as though was a ham into its or a bottle of wine. The miraculous breath which is about to inspire them to such extraordinary antics has not yet touched their brains. They are all but rational beings and do not differ much from the fine fellows in the audience. all this is pale and chilly. all these monstrous buffooneries took on a strangely thrilling reality. to give him immediate proof of it. how it What is this intoxication? It is the absolute comic. with the English actors' special talent for hyperbole. the metaphysics of absolute comedy— was the beginning of this beautiful piece. with far St. Certainly one of the most remarkable things. to moved by its irresistible obsession 'lifted' its with theft. the decapitated trunk.

and with an airy foot they proceed to run the gauntlet of theii* adventures. let's get startedl Let's get down to business!' And then they do get down to business. and our fate hurls us on—it doesn't worry me! Come. Look at aU those Httle scarlet figures. This one is taken from a singular author— a man of ranging mind. It of the marvellous. They do not seem at all put out. . Harlequin and Colombine have danced away in flight. Hke a man who spits on his hands and rubs them together before doing some heroic hke \\dndmills lashed by the must be to loosen their joints— and they will certainly need it. there follows a dazzhng volley of kicks. sparkling. flourish their arms. the King of the Carrots. And now another example. through the whole fantastic work. lighthearted gaiety of the lands of the sun as well as the profound comic spirit of Germany. punches and slaps which blaze and crash hke a battery of artillery. every cry. They about preparing for the great disasters and the tumultuous destiny which awaits them. But all of this is done in the best of spirits. which. hke soldiers. In the story entitled Daucus Carota. no sight could be more beautiful than the arrival of the great company of the Carrots in the farm-yard of the betrothed maiden's home. whatever may be said. I am returning once again to Hoffmann. who unites to the significative mockery of France the mad. with enormous green plumes hke carriage-footmen. The adroitness and ease with which they fall on their heads is assisted by their heads being bigger and heavier than the a regiment of Enghsh on their heads. or by some translators The King's Betrothed. on the frontier deed.150 it ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER quite clear that they feel themselves forcibly projected into a set new existence. every look seems to be saying: 'The fairy has willed it. Every gesture. Under cover of this hysteria. full of a huge contentment. and once their aptitude and their agihty have been duly registered. going through a series of marvellous tricks and capers on their httle horses! The whole thing is carried out witli astonishing agihty. They tempest. Then they turn to a game of leap-frog. only starts at this point— that is to say. properly speaking. All this is carried out to great gusts of laughter.

Thus. you will. at an hour when the vegetables are sleeping their brutish sleep. is fascinated by this display of military might. obsessed with dreams of grandeur. hke a learned man who might speak in barracks. waUov^ng and snoring in the filthy midden from which it first emerged. furbishing or. if Take for example. stinking campbeds That is the reverse of the medal. There are many other examples of the absolute comic that I might take from the admirable Hoffmann. ignobly snoring on its dirty. an apparatus of seduction. never suspecting that any spy could catch them unawares. Comelio Chiapsonality . and over and above all. But an army on parade is one thing. Then it is that the poor dreaming girl sees all this mass of red and green soldiery in its appalling undress. The Golden Pot. 1 in parables and allegories. like those toy soldiers pith. how different an army its arms. wants to show her the other side of all this magnificence. Anyone who really wants to understand what I have in mind should read with care Daucus Carota. In its night-cap aU that mihtary magnificence is notliing more than a putrid swamp. The Princess Brambilla. This single character changes per- from time to time. What pre-eminently distinguishes Hoffmann is his unintentional— and sometimes very intentional—blending of a certain measure of the significative comic with the most absolute variety. Peregrinus Tyss. But her father. The unfortunate young girl. he lifts the flap of one of the tents of this splendid army. who is a wise man and well versed in sorcery. Under the name of GigHo Fava he swears enmity for the Assyrian prince.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER rest of their bodies. polishing its equipment. His most supernatural and fugitive comic conceptions. worse still. 151 of elder- made which have lead weights in their caps. the rest was but a magic trick. which is like a catechism of high aesthetics. in The Princess Brambilla. you might imagine that you had to do with the profoundest type of physiologist or alienist who was amusing himself by clothing his deep wisdom in poetic forms. the actor who suffered from a chronic duahsm. which are often like the visions of a drunken man. have a very conspicuous moral meaning. the character of Gigho Fava.

This last phenomenon comes into the class of all artistic pheof dispensing nomena which dualism in the oneself indicate the existence is. but he also is type of the comic that it knows that the essence of this should appear to be unaware of and that it should produce in the spectator. no less than in the significative comic. looks very little different from a tumble-toy or a pot-beUied chimney-ornament. when Hoffmann gives birth to the absolute comic perfectly true that he knows what he itself is doing. once more and for the last time. but even in those Chinese which deHght us so much and whose intentions are far less comic than people generally think. although it be an object of veneration. that the special abode of the comic is in the laugher. there must be two beings face to face with one another: again. to be finished with all these subtleties and all these definitions. that in order to enable a comic emanation. he pours and the most regal scorn upon his rival the Princess—upon a wretched mummer forth his deepest for the hand of whose name. that an exception must nevertheless be made in connection with tlie 'law of ignorance' for those men who have made a business of I monstrosities developing in themselves their feeling for the comic. and it for the amusement of their fellows. is Giglio Fava. nor only in certain antique sculptural caricatures of which have already spoken. perhaps) further. a joy in his owoi superiority and in the su- . as it were. in whose comicality gravity plays an essential part.152 peri. ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER but when he is himself the Assyrian prince. that one of the is I should perhaps add most distinctive of the absolute comic that it remains unaware of This is evident not only in certain animals. to return to I my primary definitions would say it is one and the same time. the spectator: and finally. that the dominant idea of superiority is found in the absolute. human being— that else at of a permanent the power of being and someone And so. a chemical separation of the comic to come about. like monkeys. as I have already explained (at too great a length. let me point out. And so. they marks itself. or rather the reader. say. A Chinese idol. and to express that myself more clearly. explosion. or.

they know that suchand-such a being is comic. and that it is so only on condition of its being unaware of its nature. Artists create the comic. after its elements. . in the same way that.ON THE ESSENCE OF LAUGHTER periority of 153 man over nature. following an inverse law. an artist is only an artist on condition that he is a double man and that there is not one single phenomenon of his double nature of which he is collecting and studying ignorant.

^ ^ It is . they also have a positive artistic worth. such were its human beings. constitute the most faithful mirror Often. not however recorded in any of the standard catalogues of Carle Vemet's work. I need hardly remind you of that large plate of a gaming-house. and there is no copy of it at the Bibliotheque Nationale. each head and physiognomy is endowed with an authentic style for which many of us can vouch when we think of the guests to enjoy our father's hospitality in the days of our childhood.^ who used Son of Joseph. and caricatures. Thus of the figures of those times stiff and ungainly bearing seems to us oddly unexpected and jarring. Everyone was stiff and upright. each citizen gave the impression of an academic nude which had called in at the old-clothes. its men were Hke its paintings. which is stylistically similar to the work of Carle Vemet. his riding-boots.shop. too. Each pose and gesture has the accent of truth. and whose subject-matter agrees with Baudelaire's description. But it is not only because they have thoroughly preserved the sculptural imprint and the stylistic pretensions of their period—it is not only from the historical point of view. and his hair dripping over his brow. often of life.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS CARLE VERNET — PIGAL — CHARLET — DAUMIER MONNIER — GRAND VILLE — GAVARNI TRIMOLET — TRAVIES— JACQUE He was an astonishing man. and father of Horace Vemet. a own. ou la Maison de pret sur nantissement. Hke fashion-plates. His fashion-caricatures are superb. Crepet suggests that Baudelaire may have had in mind an engraving by Darcis. Comedie humaine of their sketches of the crowd and the street. and with his skimpy frock-coat. the world had moulded itself on art. I mean—that Carle Vemet's caricatures have a great value for us.^ His Little col- lected works are a world. was Carle Vemet. Such was the fashion. for trivial prints. more the caricatural the become more old-fashioned they become. caricatures. entitled Les Trente-un. and yet the whole of that world is much less intentionally odd than people generally suppose. after Guerain.

who belongs to the same generation as Pigal. popular sayings. The majority of his pictures are taken direct from nature. drunkards. but the sentiment of his is both just and good. Biard? It is character and not age which is the decisive factor. does not this gentle and amusing caricaturist stiU grace our annual exhibitions with Httle pictures whose innocent comicaHty must seem very feeble to M. and Carle Vernet lived a very long time. And even if they are quite close together in age. I do not mean that their originahty is very Hvely. may be the subject of a similar observation. he listens. PigaFs popular scenes are good. since gambhng is a passion at once violent and restrained. of fiery young gamblers. lacks freedom. nor even their drawing very comic. Pigal was among those who attracted most notice later on. family compositions truths. Admittedly this composition. of whom I shall have something to say in a moment. But it is often possible to say that two contemporaries represent two disof tinct epochs. serious and tenacious gamblers. And so Pigal is quite another thing from Carle Vernet. . It is a scene of violent joys and despairs.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS 155 Around a vast oval table are gathered players of different types and ages. burning up their luck. His manner between caricature as conand the more modem caricature of Charlet. of cold. for example. and then he tells what he has seen and heard. but in return it has a deep seriousness. serves as transitional artist ceived by that for Pigal is a sober comedian. In general there is a great simpHcity and a certain iimocence about aU his compositions: they almost always have to do with men of the people. The earhest works of Pigal go back quite a distance. Charlet. for the word modern refers to manner and not to date. His are commonplace but they are truths for aU that. like everything else from the hand of Carle Vernet and his school. a pleasing asperity and a dryness manner which suits the subject rather well. of old men whose scanty hair betokens the gales of long-departed equinoxes. The procedure he follows is a simple and a modest one—he observes. There is no lack of those indispensable young women whose eyes are greedily fixed upon the odds —those ladies in perpetual waiting on the gambler whose luck is in.

an essentially French name— one of the glories of France.b.) Like Flaubert. vol. but a measure of good sense.* like him he reaped his glory is eternal spirits— among the * This fragment is taken from a book which I began some years ago. I have known people who were honestly indignant at not seeing Charlet at the Institut. Pigal is an essentially reasonable caricaturist. Now I know that to come forward and tell people that they are wrong to have been amused or moved in a certain fashion is rather a shabby part to play: it is truly painful to find oneself at cross purposes with the universal vote. a good memory. pp. it often happens that his young people have a made-up' look. which generally flows easily. he is said even to have moved.156 scenes. is richer and less contrived than Carle Vernet's. I shall reply that to a certain extent he can be. but left unfinished. for the time is not yet ripe. He has dehghted. SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS and in particular they show is a spontaneous predilec- tion for elderly types. which he shares with many other caricaturists—he is not very good at expressing the quahty of youth. The carnival gusto and gaiety of the Italians is as foreign to him as the maniac violence of the English. For them it was as great a scandal as the exclusion of Mohere from the Academic. M. entertained. a whole generation of men still living. II. Almost the whole of Pigal's merit can thus be summed up under three headings— a habit of sound observation. see Walter Bagehot's essay on Beranger (1857) in his Literary Studies (Everyman ed. and an adequate sureness of execution: Httle or no imagination. Baudelaire focused much of his anti-bourgeois feefing upon the popular poet Beranger. There another thing about Pigal. I am rather at a loss to express my opinion on Charlet in a seemly way. English point of view. and almost contemporary. Nevertheless it is necessary to have the courage to say that Charlet has no place among the This caricaturist cosmopohtan geniuses.). For an opposite. . Beranger died in 1857. no citizen of the universe. His drawing. Charlet is a topical artist and an exclusive patriot— two impediments in the way of genius. and if you object that a caricaturist can never be quite that. (c. de Beranger was still alive. He has something in common with another famous man whom I do not wish to mention by name. 233 ff.. He is a great name.

nobihty. they are more like There is in the soldier. They have hearts as pure as angels'. no beauty. of his talent. kindness or wit but The miUion miUion animalculae that graze upon this planet were created by God and endowed with organs and senses solely to enable them to contemplate the soldier. but to exhibit to life the vices of the soldier— there's real cruelty for youl might discourage him! That is the way in which the famous Charlet understood caricature. Again. so strangely perverse author's approach to his profession. liaisons). I say. I assure you. He was a slave. and the drawings of Charlet. are uninteUigible on the other side of the on the other side Pyrenees. his style. Charlet asserts that the red-coat and the grenadier are the final cause of creation. A drawing by Charlet is seldom a truth. is a very bad symptom— these people of the Channel. In a minute or two artist we shall Rhine or the be speaking of the his proper— that all. with the wit of an academician (except for the social. do not expect to find a disinterested artist in him. like that other great man he insulted the all and above clerical party a great deal. execution. To show the peasant in his true self is an idle fancy of Balzac's: to depict the abominain tions of and hypochondriac the it man's heart so relentlessly is all very well for a testy spirit like Hogarth. This smacks of the vaudeville. it is nearly always a piece of cajolery addressed to the preferred caste. or phonetic. am discussing. or dithyrambs. not a free man. These things have nothing whatever to do with caricature. it is we shall settle the matter once and for At present only his wit that I Charlet always paid court to the people. is. It is the same sentiment that guides our biased artist with respect to the clerics. his draughtsmanship.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS exclusively from France. and denotes a small mind. which peasants are made to commit the most touching and witty malapropisms. in aU their glory. panegyrics. I submit that this is bad. Admittedly the is their uncouth blunders which Charlet puts into the mouth of his recruits are turned with a certain charm which does them honour and makes them interesting. goodness. He is not concerned with painting or delineating the moral deformities of the sacristy in an . tliis too. 157 from the aristocracy of the sword.

corps chetif. 'Maybe that's how we shall be next Sundayl''^ But alas. X. c'est le pale voyou. No. One of the ruffians points to him with his finger and says. with his hoarse voice what of the great poet's and his skin the colour an old sou?^ I am afraid that Charlet has too pure a heart to see such things.158 SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS original manner. already elongated and thin. play at war with wooden swords. the only thing that matters please. for he made them very ugly. urchin. however. a Voltairean sermon. attacked the monastic tribe. lambes. he has given us few sketches of this kind. is to Goya. Charlet.— The scene * Le race de Au * Paris. must be owned. 4 (La Combe 786). Now compare the artist vdth I the courtier: one gives us superb drav^ngs. And yet. I imagine that he had no love for monks. the drawing is inadequate. But what 'enfant terrible'. and is certainly not to be compared It a good intention. Album lithographique (1832). They all plump and of the fresh as rosy apples. . Auguste Barbier. But hov^^ beautiful they are in all their ugliness how^ triumphant in their monkish squalor and crapulencel Here art dominates— art v^^hich purifies like fire: there it is servility. as the bourgeois say. innocence and frank'pale of with eyes bright and smiling on the world. there is no well-marked character about the heads. There has been much those angelic little talk about Charlet's street-arabs— darlings w^ho will one pretty soldiers. Some bandits and their women are sitting eating beside an oak-tree on which a hanged man. the other. It could be far finer. wdth his nose bent towards the ground and his toes correctly aligned like a dancer's. even if the idea is a good one. his sole need is to please the soldierbumpkin. too. is loftily taking the air and sniffing the dew. and the soldier-bumpkin used to live on a diet of Jesuits. w^hich corrupts art. that occasionally he betrayed is a forest. In the arts. who are so fond of retired veterans day make such and are always who ness. No. au teint jaune comme un vieux sou.

It is proper to point out that the work of which I am speaking is of a simple and serious kind. Presumably Horace Vemet and Beranger respectively. what was this man but a manufacturer of nationahst nursery-rhymes. and he ended by repeating over and over again the same vulgar scribble which the youngest of art-students would be unwilling to acknowledge if he had a scrap of self-respect. whose life is no more proof against mortality than that of any other idol? It wiU not be long before he knows the full force of oblivion and joins the great painter and the great poet^—his first cousins in ' « '' La Combe 157-86 and 187-201 ( 1819-21 ). This was a series of costumes of the old and new guard. their gestures. an idol. Charlet's draughtsmanship hardly ever rises *chic'— it is all above the loops and ovals. applied himself to imitating the current ideas of He made a tracing. Their gait. He was a thoroughly artificial man who his time. The pubHc was truly his pattern no less than his patron. and that it demands none of the quahties which later on were gratuitously accorded to an artist whose sense of the comic was so deficient. any more than Pinelli. His sentiments he picked up ready-made at the vaudeville. of pubHc opinion: fit the fashion.^ which is not to be confused with a somewhat similar work published not so long ago— the latter may even be a posthumous work. Charlet was young then.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS with Villon's lines as I59 he supped with his comrades beneath the gallows on the gloomy plain. But he always had a tendency towards self -neglect.^ The figures have the stamp of reality. but then should have been accused of grave omissions. La Combe 209-64 ( 1845). into should not have introduced my catalogue. and his popularity had not him from drawing his figures correctly and making them stand firm on their feet. Once however he produced something quite good. they must be he tailored his inteUigence to very lifelike. a Hcensed purveyor of political catchwords. in short. . he did not think of himself as a great man. the attitudes of their heads are all excellent. and if I had followed yet absolved my I design straight through. so to speak. But it is caricaturists with whom I am concerned here. I Charlet. In a word.

There was nothing very spectacular about Honore Daumier's beginnings. him an indigCombe. as often as not—what base ingratitude 1—without even glancing at his name. but in the whole of modem art.^^ The revolution of 1830. those For were the ruthless war against truly halcyon days. men were passion. It is a hurly-burly. and particularly all against the king. In spite of Duckett was a Frenchman. In 1832 he founded Artiste. tlie kind to be published in Paris. see la first liis Presumably La Silhouette (1829-31). The bourgeois.^ then Achille Ricourt. and in recognizing that will it is really the proper subject for a study. a man who supplies the daily needs of public gaiety and provides its sustenance.a print-dealer at that time. Daumier contributed to it a great deal. William "Ricourt's shop was near the Louvre. all fire. bought some more from him.l60 SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS I ignorance and ineptitude— to slumber in the waste-paper basket of indifference. First of all he placed a few sketches with a little paper edited by WilHam Duckett. It is a real curiosity today to look through that vast gallery of historical clowning which went by the name of La Caricatured^— ihat which every artist of any consequence brought his quota. Delacroix also was displeased. whose book on the artist 1856. like all revolutions. I want to speak about a man who each morning keeps the population of our city amused. In that government. who was. sometimes under tlie pseudonym Rogelin.® But now I want to speak about one of the most important men. Until now his fellow-artists have been alone in understanding all the serious quaHties in his work. He drew because he had to— it was his ineluctable vocation. occasioned a positive fever of caricature. the business-man. like this sheet of paper which needlessly soiled and which is have now only fit for pulping. the urchin and the housewife all laugh and pass on their way. I will not say only in caricature. in the rue du Coq. journal of its name. You have guessed that I am referring to Daumier. . U "Founded by Charles Philipon (1800-62) in 1830. * from Colonel de in had been published 332 below. caricaturists. to which Baudelaire contributed. a fargreat series of comic archives to * Baudelaire's rough handling of Charlet earned letter nant p. it lasted until 1835.

But all this proved absolutely nothing. Just judge for yourselves— Liberty. when we turn the pages of these comic archives. how many are there not whose names are already forgotten! But it is the olympian and pyramidal Fear. rigged out in motley and grotesque costumes. it was possible to say. and indeed these drawings are often full of blood and for years passion. and however obstinately Justice retorted. now gory. 'What connection can you see between this last sketch and the first?' Similar experiments were made with the head of Christ and that of Apollo. now farcical. a young and beautiful girl. I think. trials. that so furious a be kept up war should have been able to on end. A moment ago. that dominates and crowns the whole fantastic epic. drawing further and further away from the primary image. She has . With this kind of plastic slang. of Htigious memory. and how. is sunk in a perilous sleep. through whose pages aU the poHtical elite march past. Massacres. it is a matter of enormous sur- prise to us today. arrests. There is no doubt about it that they went to work with a marvellous ferocity and espirit de corps. I used the words 'a gory farce'. he drew a series of sketches of which the first exactly reproduced the royal physiognomy. Among all those great men of the dawning monarchy. in the very presence of the court. approached ever closer to the fatal goal —the pearl 'There now. You will remember the time when Philipon (who was perpetually at cross purposes with His Majesty's justice) wanted to prove to the tribunal that nothing was more innocent than that prickly and provoking pear. An obhging analogy had discovered the symbol: from that time onwards the symbol was enough. with her Phrygian cap upon her head. And so that tyraimical and accursed pear became the focus for the whole pack of patriotic blood-hounds.' he said. and I believe that it was even possible to refer back one of them to the hkeness of a toad. and to make the people understand. a prodigious satanic l6l comedy.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS rago. searches and beatings-up by the police— all those episodes of the first years of the government of 1830 keep on recurring. imprisonments. anything one wanted. and each successive one.



hardly a thought for the danger which

threatening her.
evil pur-

A Man



advancing upon her, with an

pose in his heart. He has the burly shoulders of a marketporter or a bloated landlord. His pear-shaped head is surmounted by a prominent tuft of hair and flanked with extensive side- whiskers. The monster is seen from behind, and the fun of guessing his name must have added no Httle

He advances upon the young person, making ready to outrage her. 'Have you prayd to-night. Madam?'— It is OthelloPhiHppe about to stifle innocent Liberty, for all her cries and resistance! Or again, along the pavement outside a more than suspicious house quite a young girl is passing; she is wearing
value to the print.



Phrygian cap with
girl of


the innocent coquetry of a


X and Monsieur Y (well-known faces— the most honourable of ministers, for
the people. Monsieur

a certainty) are plying a singular trade this time.
closing in



on the poor


whispering blandishments or

indecencies in her ear, and gently pushing her towards a

narrow passageway. Behind a door the Man can just be out. His face is almost turned away, but it is he all right! Just look at that tuft of hair and those side-whiskers. He is impatient, he is waiting. Or here is Liberty arraigned before the Provost's Court or some other Gothic tribunal: this one is a great gallery of contemporary portraits in mediaeval dress. And here is Liberty dragged into the torture-chamber. Her delicate ankles are about to be crushed, her stomach to be distended with torrents of water, and every other abomination to be perfonned upon her. These bare-armed, brawny, torture-hungry athletes are easily recognizable. They are Monsieur X, Monsieur Y, and Monsieur Z—the


bStes noires of opinion.*

no longer have the documents in front of me, and it is posone of these last was by Travies. ( c.b. ) None of these caricatures has been exactly identified. Champflemy (who quotes the passage in his Histoire de la caricature moderne, 1865, pp. 227-8) seems to imply that they were by Grandville

sible that

are executed with remarkable conscientiousness


In every one of these drawings (of which the majority



ousness of purpose) the king plays the part of an ogre,



an insatiate Gargantua,^^ ^nd sometimes even

worse. But since the February Revolutions^ I have only

seen a single caricature whose savagery reminded me of the days of those high poHtical passions; for none of the
poHtical appeals displayed in the shop-windows at the time
of the great presidential elections oflfered anything but pale
reflections in

comparison with the products of the time of just been speaking. The exception occurred shortly after the unfortunate massacre at Rouen.^* In the foreground, on a stretcher, there lies a corpse, riddled with bullets: behind it are assembled all the city bigwigs in uniform, well crimped, well buckled, well turned out, their moustaches en croc, and bursting with arrogance; there




must surely also be a few bourgeois dandies who are off to mount guard or to take a hand in quelling the riot, with a bimch of violets in the buttonhole of their tunics—in short, the very ideal of the garde bourgeoise, as the most celebrated of our demagogues termed it.^^ On his knees before the stretcher, wrapped in his judge's robe, with his mouth open to show his double row of saw-edged teeth like
a shark, F.C.^^

slowly passing his claws over the corpse's

and blissfuUy scratching it.— 'Ah! that Norman!,' he 'He's only shamming dead so as to avoid answering

to justice!'
It was with just such a fury that La Caricature waged war on the govenmient. And Daumier played an important

and Travies, but La Caricature of 27th June 1831 contained a print of Liberte about to receive the sentence of the Cour
Prevotale, by Decamps. ^Damnier's Gargantua (La Caricature, Dec. 1831) cost him six months in prison. " The 1848 revolution. "This took place at the time of the departmental elections, April 1848; a rising was brutally repressed by General Ordener. " Probably Lafayette.

"Frank-Carre, a detested local




role in that chronic skirmish.
to provide



for the fines

means had been invented which overwhehned the

Charivari; this

money from whose


pubhsh supplementary drawings, the was appropriated to that purpose.!^

Over the deplorable massacres in the rue Transnonain, Daumier showed his true greatness; his print has become rather rare, for it was confiscated and destroyed.^^ It is not precisely caricature— it is history, reality, both trivial and terrible. In a poor, mean room, the traditional room of the
proletarian, with shoddy, essential furniture, lies the corpse

workman, stripped but for his cotton shirt and cap: on his back, at full length, his legs and arms outspread. There has obviously been a great struggle and
of a



tumult in the room, for the chairs are overturned, as are the night-table and the chamber-pot. Beneath the weight
of his corpse— between his

back and the bare boards— the



crushing the corpse of his Httle child. In this cold

attic all is silence

and death. was about the same time

satirical portrait gallery of political notabilities.

Daumier undertook a There were

two series— one
the latter series

of full-length, the other of bust-portraits:

came later, I think, and only contained upper house.^^ In these works the artist displayed a wonderful understanding of portraiture; whilst exaggerating and burlesquing the original features, he remained so soundly rooted in nature that these specimens might serve as models for all portraitists. Every Httle mean-


of tlie

ness of


every absurdity, every quirk of



vice of the heart can be clearly seen

and read

in these






same time everything

^^This was the Association Mensuelle Lithographique, which was started in August 1832. On the whole subject, see Freedom of the Press and 'L' Association Mensuelle': Philipon versus Louis-Philippe, by E. de T. Bechtel (New York, Grolier Club, 1952).


Published in July 1834 by the Association Mensuelle (Del135), it is now one of Daumier's best-known lithographs.


fact the two series were approximately contemporai}'' with one another; the full-length portraits were published in La Caricature in 1833-4, and the majority of the bust-portraits in Le

Charivari in 1833.



broadly and emphatically drawn. Daumier combined tbe

freedom of an artist with the accuracy of a Lavater. And yet such of his works as date back to that period are very different from what he is doing today. They lack the facility

improvisation, the looseness

which he acquired

and Hghtness of pencil Sometimes— though rarely—he was heavy, but always very finished, conscientious, and


remember one other very fine drawing which belongs same class—ILa Liherte de la presse?^ Surrounded by his instruments of liberation—his printing-plant— and with his ritual paper-cap pulled down to his ears and his shirt-sleeves rolled up, a typographer's workman is standing four-square and solid on his sturdy legs; he is clenching both his fists and scowling. The man's whole frame is as rough-hewn and muscular as the figures of the great masI

to the

In the background is the inevitable Philippe with his pohcemen. But they dare not come and interfere. However, our great artist has done a wide diversity of things. What I propose to do is to describe some of his most striking plates, chosen from different genres. Then I shall analyse the philosophic and artistic importance of this extraordinary man, and finally, before taking leave of him, I shall give a list of the different series and categories of his work, or at least I shall do the best I can, for at the



his oeuvre


a labyrinth, a forest of track-

abundance. Le Dernier Bain^^ is a serious and pathetic caricature. Standing on the parapet of a quay and already leaning forward, so that his body forms an acute angle with the base from which it is parting company—like a statue losing its balance— a man is letting himself topple into the river. He must have really made up his mind, for his arms are calmly folded, and a huge paving-stone is attached to his neck with a rope. He has taken his oath not to escape. This is no suicide of a poet who means to be fished out and to get
^Published March 1834 by the Association Mensuelle (Delteil

^ No. 2

of 'Sentiments et Passions', published in




1840 (Delteil 800).



himself talked about. Just look at that shabby, creased frock-coat, with all the bones jutting throughl And that

seedy cravat, twisted hke a snake, and that bony and pointed Adam's apple Surely nobody would have the heart to grudge this man his underwater escape from the passing show of civilization. In the background, on the other side of the river, a well-fed, contemplative member of the bourgeoisie is devoting himself to the innocent joys of rod and


Imagine, now, a very remote comer of some obscure and
little-frequented suburb, oppressed beneath a leaden sun.

A man


somewhat funereal figure— an undertaker's mute,

perhaps, or a doctor—is hobnobbing and drinking a glass,
in a leafless arbour, beneath a trellis of dusty laths, with a

hideous skeleton.

and the scythe are lying but these two self-important creatures are evidently laying some murderous bet, or conducting a learned discussion on mortahty.22 Daumier has scattered his talent in a thousand different fields. For example, he even produced some wonderful


on one

side. I forget the title of this plate:


poetical pubHcation called

when commissioned to illustrate a baddish medicoIm Nemesis medicale.^^ One of


them, which deals with cholera, represents a public square overwhelmed with light and heat. True to its ironical custom in times of great calamity and political upheaval, the sky of Paris is superb; it is quite white and incandescent

with heat. The shadows are black and clear-cut. A corpse is lying across a doorway. A woman is hurrying in, stopping up her nose and her mouth as she runs. The square is deserted and Hke an oven—more desolate, even, than a populous square after a riot. In the background can be seen
the silhouettes of two or three
little hearses drawn by grotesque old hacks, and in the midst of this forum of desola-



May 1840 in Le CharivaH, with the title 'Asen commandite pour rexploitation de riiumanite 'Limited Company for the Exploitation of Humanity' (Delteil
Published 26th

'^Published 1840. These wood-engravings are Nos. 111-139 in Arthur Riimann's HonorS Daumier, sein Holzschnittwerk (Munich, 1914). The example described by Baudelaire is reproduced above, on p. 133.

neither thought nor aim,


don a wretched, bewildered dog, starved to the bone, with

sniffing the dusty paving-stones,




its legs.

The scene now shifts to a prison-yard. A very learned gentleman, with black coat and white cravat— a philanthropist,

a redresser of


ecstatically seated


:wo convicts of terrifying aspect—both as stupid as cretins,

ferocious as bull-dogs

as down-at-heel as old boots.




saying that he has murdered his father,

'avished his sister, or



done some other heroic deed. *Ah! what a splendid body of a man you must have

^een!' cries the savant, in raptures. ^^

These specimens are enough to show how serious Dauthought often is, and how spiritedly he attacks his ;ubjects. Look through his works, and you will see parading before your eyes all that a great city contains of living nonstrosities, in all their fantastic and thrilling reahty. rhere can be no item of the fearful, the grotesque, the linister or the farcical in its treasury, but Daumier knows it. rhe Hve and starving corpse, the plump and well-filled jorpse, the ridiculous troubles of the home, every little


every Httle pride, every enthusiasm, every despair
is all

the bourgeois—it


the bourgeois been

there. By no one as by Daumier known and loved (after the fashion

artists)— the bourgeois, that last vestige of the middle

iges, that

Gothic ruin that dies so hard, that type at once

commonplace and so eccentric. Daumier has Hved in ntimacy with him, he has spied on him day and night, he
penetrated the mysteries of his bedroom, he has conwith his wife and his children, he comprehends the



orm of his nose and the construction of his head, he knows he spirit that animates his house from top to bottom. To make a complete analysis of Daumier's ceuvre would )e an impossibility; instead I am going to give the titles
his principal series of prints, without too much in the vay of appreciation and commentary. Every one of them jontains marvellous fragments. Robert Macaire, Mceurs conjugales. Types parisiens, Pro)f

:e Charivari,

No. 12 of the series 'Les Philanthropes du jour', published in 19th Oct. 1844 (Delteil 1304).



fib et silhouettes, les Baigneurs, les Baigneuses, les
tiers parisiens, les Bas-hleus, Pastorales, Histoire

les Boris

Bourgeois, les Gens de Justice, la Journee de





jour, Actualites,



Representants representes.


Tout ce the two

sets of portraits of



have akeady


these series— Kofoerf Macaire

have two important observations to make about two of and the Histoire ancienne. Robert Macaire^^ was the decisive starting-point of the caricature of manners.


tude of

The great political war had died down The stubborn aggressiveness of the law, the attithe government which had established its power,

certain weariness natural to the human spirit had damped its fires a great deal. Something new had to be found. The pamphlet gave way to the comedy. The Satire

and a

Menippee^^ surrendered the field to Moliere, and the greal epic-cycle of Robert Macaire, told in Daumier's dazzling version, succeeded to the rages of revolution and the drawings of allusion. Thencefortii caricature changed its step; it was no longer especially political. It had become the general satire of the people. It entered the realm of the novel, The Histoire ancienne^'^ seems to me to be important because it is, so to say, the best paraphrase of the famous line 'Qui nous dellvrera des Grecs et des RomainsF^^ Daumiei
* A ceaseless and regular production has rendered this list more than incomplete. Once, with Daumier himself, I tried to make a complete catalogue of his works, but even together we could not manage to do it. ( c.b. ) The catalogue by Delteil, to wliicl] reference has been made in notes above, contains almost 400C
lithographic items.


A hundred plates of this series appeared in Le Charivari between Aug. 1836 and Nov. 1838; and a further twenty betweer Oct. 1840 and Sept. 1842. Daumier developed Robert Macaire into a classic symbol of the rascally impostor; see Champfleur) (op. cit.) pp. 119 ff.



with prologue and epilogue. the Ligue, and published in 1594.


pamphlet written in the form of a dramatic farce It was directed againsi


A series of 50 plates which appeared in Le Clmrivari betweer Dec. 1841 and Jan. 1843 (Delteil 925-74); see pi. 76.

^ The

first line of a satire by Joseph Berchoux; Crepet, however, in his edition of the Curiosites esthStiques, attributes it tc

M.-B. Clement.



came down brutally on antiquity— on false antiquity, that is, for no one has a better feeling than he for the grandeurs of antiquity. He snapped his fingers at it. The hot-headed
cunning Ulysses, the wise Penelope, Telemand the fair Helen, who ruined Troy— they all of them, in fact, appear before our eyes in a Farcical ughness which is reminiscent of those decrepit old tragic actors whom one sometimes sees taking a pinch of 3nu£f in the wings. It was a very amusing bit of blasphemy, md one which had its usefulness. I remember a lyric poet 3f my acquaintance^^—one of the 'pagan school'— being deeply indignant at it. He called it sacrilege, and spoke oi the fair Helen as others speak of the Blessed Virgin. But those who have no great respect for Olympus, or for iagedy, were naturally beside themselves with dehght. To conclude, Daumier has pushed his art very far; he bias made a serious art of it; he is a great caricaturist. To ippraise him worthily, it is necessary to analyse him both from the artistic and from the moral point of view. As an
Achilles, the

achus, that great booby,

what distinguishes Daumier is his sureness of touch. He draws as the great masters draw. His drawing is abundant and easy— it is a sustained improvisation; and yet it

lever descends to the


He has

a wonderful, an almost

memory, which



takes the place of the model,

ill his figures

stand firm on their




s always true. His gift for observation

so sure that

not find a single one of his heads which jars with its jupporting body. The right nose, the right brow, the right

the right foot, the right hand. Here

we have

the logic

the savant transported into a Hght and fugitive


pitted against the very mobility of

As a morahst, Daimiier has several affinities with MoLike him, he goes straight to the point. The central dea immediately leaps out at you. You have only to look have understood. The legends which are written at the oot of his drawings have no great value, and could genjrally be dispensed with.^^ His humour is, so to speak, involuntary. This artist does not search for an idea; it would

Probably Theodore de Banville.


They were mostly invented by



to say that

be truer


just lets

it slip


His caricature

has a formidable breadth, but
rancour. In
all his

it is

quite without bile or

work there is a foundation of decency Often he has gone so far as to refuse to handle certain very fine and violent satirical themes, because, he said, they passed the Hmits of the comic, and could wound the inner feelings of his fellow-men. And so, whenever he is harrowing or terrible, it is almost without having wished to be so. He has just depicted what he has seen, and this is the result. As he has a very passionate and a very natural love for nature, he would find difficulty in rising to the absolute comic. He even goes out of his way to avoid anything which a French pubHc might not find an object of clear and immediate perception. A word more. What completes Daumier's remarkable quality and renders him an exceptional artist who belongs to the illustrious family of the masters, is that his drawing is naturally coloured. His lithographs and his wood-engravings awake ideas of colour. His pencil contains more than
just a black trace suitable for

delineating contours.


evokes colour, as he does thought— and that is the sign of a higher art— a sign which all inteUigent artists have clearly
discerned in his works.

Henri Monnier made much of a stir a few years ago; he had a great success in the bourgeois world and in the world of the studios—which are both sorts of villages. And there are two reasons for this. The first is, like Julius Caesar, he fulfilled three functions at once— those of actor, writer and caricaturist. The second is that his talent is essentially a bourgeois one. As an actor he was cold and precise: as a writer, captious: and as an artist, he had discovered a method of doing his 'chic' from nature.
the exact counterpart of the man of whom we have been speaking. Instead of instantly seizing upon the whole ensemble of a figure or a subject, Henri Monnier went to work by means of a slow and progressive exami-

He is


nation of

its details.


has never






Monsieur Prudhomme,^i th^t monstrously
creation, a

^ Monnier's best-known

pompous and


over a very long period of time. there remains an element of vagueness in his thought. and what is so odd is that. At first sight the finished product strikes one as something extraordinary.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS authentic type. when the latter addressed a singular compliment to Monnier. or how many games of dominoes he must have played. which are the Now main object of our attention.' to congratulate you . in spite of the no more than one. but he has hard. He spent his life and sometimes he found them. cit. to arrange anything.^^ As for Grandville. I cannot tell how many cups of coffee Henri Monnier must have swallowed. he is quite another story. to idealize. but he ended ^ Published in 1830. Hemi Monnier had nothing left to say. he studied him from day to day. he traced him on to his paper. 1/1 Monsieur Prudhomme was never conceived on a large scale. 243 ) relates how he was once in the company of a 'somewhat testy poet' (no doubt. living Prudhomme. p. Several of his Scdnes populaires^^ are pleasant indeed—otherwise one would have to deny the cruel and amazing fascination of the daguerreotype. 1 have for long wanted on your excellent dictionaries. Grandville is a morbidly literary artist. always on the look-out for bastard means of projecting his thought into the domain of the plastic art. ^ Champfleury ( op. the limpidity of a mirror— of a mirror that cannot think.' he said. After studying him. 'Monsieur. But as he was an artist by profession and a man of letters by natural inclination. would find material for a very pretty psychological or physi- ological study in Grandville. It is the coldness. and contents itself with reflecting what passes in front of it. but Monnier is quite unable to create. he translated—no. Monnier has a strange gift. before he arrived at that prodigious result. the real. Monnier studied him. they are generally cold and sharpened precision of his pencil. he never succeeded in expressing them properly. but when aU of Monsieur Prudhomme had been said. A philosopher or a doctor seeking ideas. attached to the mouths of his characters. and so we have often seen him employing that old-fashioned device of the 'speaking balloon'. Baudelaire). To return to his drawings. Naturally he touched upon several important questions.

ful things. He even began that way—with the Metamorphoses du jaur. Did he not. But it is the lunatic side of his talent that makes Grandville important. but he is often so without knowing it. Doubtless Grandville produced some good and beautimuch assisted by his obstinate and meticulous he entirely lacked flexibility.^^ with all the precision of a stenographer writing down an orator's speech. With superhuman courage this man devoted his life to refashioning creation. wrung rearranged it. being neither quite philosoDuring a large part of his life Grandville was much preoccupied with the general idea of Analogy. I find him terrifying. and what is more. as though I were entering an apartment where disorder was systematically organized—where preposterous cornices were propped up against the floor. he was never able to draw a woman.172 SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS artist. He it took it in his hands. the furniture stood with its feet in the air. and it. the artist. to ^Baudelaire is probably referring monde (1844). compose a picture-book called Le Monde a Tenvers?^^ There are some superficial spirits who are amused by Grandville. explained and annotated Natiure the drawers sHd inwards instead of out. wanted—he really wanted—his pencil to explain the law of the Association of Ideas! Grandville is indeed very comic. for my part. Grandville. ""Also probably Un autre monde. For unfortunately it is the artist in whom I am interested. where all the objects elbowed each other about obliquely.^^ But he was never able to draw correct inferences from it. by falling pher nor between two stools. and not his drawings. When I open the door of Grandville's works I feel a certain uneasiness. Grandville's Un autre . in fact. but " Published in 1829. and was transformed into a phantasmagoria. habits. where the pictures showed their faces through an optician's distortingglass. And now we come to an artist with an odd kind of charm. He turned the world upside down. he tossed about hither and thither like a derailed locomotive. it. Before his death he applied his always stubborn will to the noting of his successive dreams and nightmares in a plastic form.

In the second place. He writes the legends to his own drawings. He among a thousand. But those rascals of Gavami's are so engaging that young people will inevitably want to imitate them. Do you remember that fine. He is not also a even uniquely a \asual artist.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS I73 but who is very much more important. and therefore he is easier for them to understand. and they are sometimes very intricate. Like Marivaux.' You would really think that the lady must be a portrait. I beseech you. Daumier is a frank and open genius. nor is man of letters. Many people prefer Gavami to Daumier. How could he fail to be popular? Here is one sample entirely a caricaturist. ihen he went on to fashion-drawings. my good kind lady. he knows the full force of understatement. and it still remains a thing of beauty and clarity. Like aU men of lettersbeing a man of letters himself—he is very shghtly tainted with corruption. Note. he does not blame. and he seems to me to have borne for a long time the trace of these things. that the best part is in the legend. Nevertheless it is fair to say that Gavami has always shown progress. It is not the same way with Gavami. it dons a graceful garb. your father has already had one this morning. handsome young woman who is giving a disdainful pout as she looks at a yoxmg man clasping his hands to her in the attitude of a suppliant? 'One little kiss. Gavami is not essentially a satirist. besides. when his bawdry openly declares itself. The particular characteristic of his comic gift is a great nicety of observation which sometimes goes as far as tenuity. Often he flatters instead of biting. Thanks to the agreeable hypocrisy of his thought and to the powerful tactics of innuendo. he evokes. he encourages. Gavarni is less of an artist. he is a double man—with him the legend is superadded to the drawing. he touches upon. the drawing itself being incapable of saying so many things. it caresses the dogmas of fashion and takes the world into its confidence. And yet he— Gavami —started by making engineering drawings. there is nothing he does not dare. which is at once a lure and a flattery for the pubHc inteUigence. At other times. and there is nothing surprising in that. for the love of God!'— Look in again this evening. . Take away the text from one of his drawings.

and a vast series of detached prints. les Etudiants. Gavami's chief works are the following sets: La Boife aux lettres. condemned to Hve in funereal intimacy with the clinking corpse— a general or a banker— on which she depended. that feature of the Empire. ^ The popular .—Trimolet's was a melancholy destiny. the and impresario. as has already been observed. To see the graceful and childHke drollery which wafts through his compositions. and as many people force themselves into the by as his Hterary imagination that sees. Paul de Kock^* created the Grisette. Such as he is. novelist. She comes and she goes. The veritable glory and the true mission of Gavarni and Daumier were to complete Balzac. les Enfants terribles. Gavarni created the Lorette. she consorts with the artists and the journaHsts.^'^ The Lorette. The Lorette is a free agent. who. a little I even beheve it was he who invented the word. and not a few of those girls have perfected themselves by using her as a mirror.174 SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS before his time. les Lorettes. you would hardly suspect that his poor life will endure. was well aware of this. She keeps open house. les Caulisses. but he completed her. of be absolutely necessary to peruse his works in order to understand the history of the last years of the Monarchy. It remains for me to speak of Trimolet. Travies and Jacque. He emerged with the dawning of peace. It will whom much ^The word was journalist in fact 'invented' by Nestor Roqueplan. She existed. indeed. moreover. just as the youth of the Latin Quarter succumbed to the influence of his Students. and in fact he is so swept along he invents at least as much he has had a considerable effect upon manners. and now he vanishes with the storm. The Repubhc put him a Httle in the shade. She is no one's mistress. Hommes et Femmes de plume. I said that Gavarni had completed her. les Actrices. and reckoned them his auxiliaries and commentators. is not the same thing as the 'kept woman'. She does what she can to be witty. he and for that reason hkeness of fashion-plates. and Gavarni the Lorette. according to a cruel but natural law. Gavarni is a more than interesting artist.

C. 1860. Lausanne . Drawing.1. M. BAUDELAIRE: SELF-PORTRAIT. Armand Godoy.


4- tassaert: don't play the heartless one!' Lithograph. GAVARNi: the ARTIST AND HIS CRITIC. London 3. London . Paris Opposite 2. Baudelaire's 'salon de 1846': Title-page. Lithograph. Victoria and Albert Museum. British Museum. Bibliotheque Nationale.

Etching. Private Collection. C. Water-colour. MANET: PORTRAIT OF BAUDELAIRE. France . London 7. 1863 Opposite 6. after a pastel by Eugene Giraud.5- CAR J at: photograph of BAUDELAIRE. LAMi: PORTRAIT OF DELACROIX. 1862. Private Collection.




Armand Godoy. BAUDELAIRE: PORTRAIT OF DAUMIER.10. 1856. M. Drawing. Lausanne .




00 c § < O '^ o CO .

k }'"^^^ .^d.

janmot: flowers of the field. Salon Miisee des Beaux-Arts.i6. . Lyon of 1845.


Salon of 1845. planet: the vision of st teresa.i8. France . Private Collection.

Autun .g. Salon of 1846. Musee Municipal. LASSALE BORDES: THE DEATH OF CLEOPATRA.



chenavard: dante's inferno. ARY SCHEFFER: ST AUGUSTINE AND ST MONICA. Chantilly of 1846 24. of 1846. Montpellier Opposite 23. . Salon Musee Conde.. Tate Gallery. Salon (version). Salon of 1846. London DECAMPS: SOUVENIR OF TURKEY IN ASIA.M1M } 22. Musee Fabre.

F * teff-^ "'^"'^ ^Ws r-r ' .1 ^^ i IP 1 :. [ [.. . 1 - p-?K%f^^K |y-.







. PAUL flandrin: landscape.31. Salon Miisee Ingres. Montauban of 1859.

Paris Musee du Louvre. hebert: peasant women of cervaro. Salon of 1859. .32.





Bourg-en-Bresse '^t^ 38. Salon of 1859. Paris .37- millet: the cowgirl. Painted 1858-9. Musee de I'Ain. Musee du Louvre. millet: the angelus.

HIPPOLYTE flandrin: portrait of



Dated 1840. Musee du Louvre,

46. ricard:

portrait of a girl.

Musee des Beaux-Arts, Lyon




^' *-i>^. v»

of 1850-1.

47. meissonier:

the barricade. Salon Musee du Louvre, Paris


48. meissonier:

a painter shows his drawings.

Salon of 1850-1. Wallace Collection, London

London .k:yf ^- m^^^ j^.^ 49. Dated 1847. ^^^^ Gallery. DIAZ: love's offspring.

50. Museum New York . Metropolitan of Art. DIAZ: STUDY OF TREES.

'^r'vrr^^ .

Washington .'^I** 52. Washington 53. THE OLD BEAR. Smithsonian Institution. catlin: MAH-TO-HE-HA. catlin: buffalo-hunt under the wolf-skin mask. Smithsonian Institution.

Etching. Musee du Louvre. Musee des Beaux-Arts. DAVID dangers: CHILD WITH A BUNCH OF GRAPES. Nimes . Marble. Salon of 1845. Victoria and Albert Museum. PRADIER: THE FRIVOLOUS MUSE. London Opposite 55. Paris 56.54- meryon: the clock tower. Marble. Salon of 1846. paris. 1852.


Marble. Formerly in the collection of Comte Robert de Montesquiou . Paris 58.clesinger: bust of madame Musee sabatier. 1847. christophe: 'danse macabre'. 1859. dti Louvre. Terracotta (?).57.

Dated 1842. Frick Collection New York . Dated 1845. INGRES: the comtesse d'haussonville.59.INGRES: CHERUBINI AND HIS MUSE. Musee du Louvre. Paris 60.

Paris 62. INGRES: THE GRANDE ODALISQUE'.vtTj«v vigil"' Wi>W« ""••'" 61. Musee du Louvre. INGRES: APOTHEOSIS OF HOMER.>. Dated 1814.n'M/t^<c» t"i'# jCtiht. Paris . Dated 1827. Musee du Louvre.-r:^ ^'^'""M.^ MJ''M.

Paris of 1834. DELACROIX: WOAIEN OF ALGIERS. DELACROIX: DANTE AND VIRGIL. Salon of l822. Miisee du Louvre. Paris 64. .63. Salon Musee du Louvre.


6/. Paris . Formerly with Messrs Bernheim-Jeiine. Musee des Augustins. Salon of 1846. DELACROIX: ROMEO AND JULIET. DELACROIX: Salon of 1845. THE SULTAN OF MOROCCO WITH HIS BODYGUARD. Musee du Louvre. 66. Paris Salon of 1839. Toulouse Opposite 65. DELACROIX: HAMLET AND THE GRAVEDIGGER.

Musee des Beaux-Arts. Salon of 1845. Bessonneau . DELACROIX: THE SIBYL WITH THE GOLDEN BOUGH. Lyon 69. Salon of 1845. DELACROIX: THE LAST WORDS OF MARCUS AURELIUS. Formerly in the collection of M.68.


Salon of 1859. DELACROIX: THE ASCENT TO CALVARY. GAVARNi: AFTER THE BALL. Paris . Lithograph. BibUotheque Nationale. and Albert Museum. Lithograph. TRAVIES: Victoria LIARD— THE PHILOSOPHER TRAMP. London 73. Miisee Central Metz Opposite 72.71.

/^Th. \ .

«-* — <.<^ .

%j\' m 76. daumier: dido and aeneas (fflSTOiRE ancienne'). please!' Lithograph. pigal: 'the Victoria 75. sir. . London Private Collection daumier: ROBERT MACAIRE— BARRISTER. and Albert Museum. other foot. Lithograph. Lithograph. Private Collection Opposite 74.

Til] liJAWJll) <»!• <'iu'i:LTy JJ. Engmving. London . Victoria and Albert Museum. HOGARTH: THE REWARD OF CRUELTY.

London . and Albert Museum.78. GOYA: Victoria 'who would HAVE BELIEVED IT?' Aquatint.

H|te^ ^^^P 4Mi'.:^ '^'. . ." HI h^ ^ \ :^m 1 '« <4^Qm| p -il Jc^g^^B'^ * ^^N o ^ s <<« 3-§ i-J o -^ .

His talent was growing. and the idea was a fine one.^^ have been known to tumble down at the risk of crush- ing to pieces let is some 'poor man who has had no dinner'). and for what remains he gladly puts his faith in the AU-Powerful. Travies. He himself Chansons populaires de sketches. He raises his eyes in gratitude towards the starless sky. who feel the lash of affliction. who hast given me this wall for my shelter and this mat for my covering!' Like all the disinherited of the earth. *^ Presumably La Pnere (Salon 1841). One day Trimolet painted a picture. he has a flavour all his own. it must be admitted. is lying stretched out at the foot of a crumbling wall. He is a humorist who deserves a place apart. he his intellectual ^ Published in three volumes in 1843. 1 bless Thee. he died at the moment when the dawn was already brightening his horizon and a kindher fortune there are geniuses seemed to want to smile upon him. who. ^A . a subtle taste which fine palates must find distinct from all others. in something of a muddle. Obviously this artist had been very much struck by the works of Cruikshank. he kept his originaHty. machinery was good and actively functioning. and cries out. who have passed nights hke that! Trimodead.^^ It was well conceived. or living bundles of rags. Trimolet ruins. without preliminary work— a procedure which results. on a dark and soaking night one of those old men who look hke perambulating reigns. In my opinion. this excellent fellow is not hard to please. Whatever may be after drinking ( said by the tribe of the optimists. has had an ill-starred lot. prolific writer of vaudevilles. but for all that. Other laborated on this work. *° illustrators col- 1842 and 1843.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS had been ing assailed 1/5 by so many la sorrows. but his physical machinery had been gravely impaired and undermined by the storms of the past. number of very beautiful designs. or rather which the maddest and most innocent gaiety drew very complicated compositions freely on the plate. according to Desaugiers. in grievous afflictions and gnawetched— for the collection of France^^ and for Aubert's Comic Almanacks^^—a. too. my God.

He amends and corrects himself without ceasing. and. He was a puller of expressive faces. such as Grandville. One writer describes him as 'ce fantoche priapique'. Mayeux his. The subject of some 160 lithographs published in La Caricature and elsewhere.^^ all over again. he turns and returns. and was much translated. but a nymph of the suburbs— a httle wan and melancholy. and may be said to have loved it with a tender sympathy. dessiner les Passions was extremely influential throughout the late 17th and the entire 18th centiuy. forever pursuing an intangible ideal. Prudhomme belongs to At that already distant time there was in Paris a sort of physio gnomanic clown called Leclaire. besides.176 is SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS artist.'^^ that true. who did the run of the outlying taverns. Or else he will make a beautiful discovery— and fail to recognize it. but he lacks sureness. he used to illumine his features with all the passions in turn. Travies has a deep feeling for the joys and griefs of the people. eccentric character Paris is who Mon- much. peintre du roi. Other artists. just as Robert Daumier's and M. Published 1839. sitting between two candles. and all their rags and tatters have that almost undefinable fulness and nobility an outstanding preciated in his o^^al time. But through all his tergiversations you can always follow a subterranean vein of quite noteworthy character and colour. he knows the rabble through and through. . He wants to be amusing. the drinking clubs and the Httle theatres. He is the prince of bad luck. and you can be certain that he will fail. *** Charles Lebrun's MSthode pour apprendre d. That is the reason why his Scenes hachiques^'^ will remain a remarkable work. This man was a very melancholy soul— a ridiculous accident more common than one supposes among the eccentric *^ ** ** Le prince du guignon. those tramps of his are generally very lifelike. of a style ready-made. such as nature often provides in her is odd moments. We so must not forget that Travies is the creator of Mayeux. and one who was not nicely apHe has produced much. also used the character. amused Macaire nier. It was the volume of the Caractdres des passions de M. Lebrun.^^ His muse is a nymph.

can hardly be said to underline their comic intention. for there is today. Champ- *®A grotesque character in Scarron's *® Roman comique. M. Travies lated in the memory of the Parisian people.SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS classes— and he 1/7 was possessed by a mania for friendship. cit. several other popular crea- not quite Some time ago Travies disappeared from the scene— I do know why. This poor fellow possessed such objective power and so great an aptitude for make-up that he could imitate to the very Hfe the hump and wrinkled brow of a hunch-back. as far as fleury does not offer any confirmation. there is a seriousness and a sensitivity about his talent that make it singularly engaging.^^ are not by Travies. 198-9). . It is a real misfortune. it goes. and for a long time the turbulent Mayeux spoke. perorated and gesticuutterance. a healthy growth of comic albums and journals. who has recently been studying Travies. and in spite of his hesitations and faihngs. for he is an acute observer. as always. he spent his time searching for a friend. his eyes would overflow with the tears of soHtude. played so great a part in the epic history of this gaUant and patriotic by PhiHpon.. slobbering patriotic fervours of saw him— it was in the midst of the great July— and a radiant idea exploded in his brain. as well as a fascinating way of drawing women. and knew and copied him. Claude Ferment. pp.^^ " The whole of the above passage dealing with Leclaire is quoted by Champfleury (op. however. The same thing has occurred with tions. as is well known. Beyond admitting the plausibility of the explanation. Mayeux was created. no less than his great simian paws and noisy. and that in this way each drawing came to have a lining in a di£Ferent style— which. And so it came about that he reserved to himself the pleasant task of doing the women in Ragotin. shouted. I feel that I should warn collectors of the Mayeux cari- catures that the women who. they are had this exceptionally the Mayeux caricatures of Travies.*^ Since that time it it has been recognized that has been thought that Travies Mayeux really existed. and when he had had a drink. Apart from his studies and his grotesque performances. who comic idea.

^'^ He draws richly and with wit. ^ Published ^ Published in the Musee Philipon. shown himself an admirable caricaturist. like everything else of his. for example. has the pungency and the immediacy of the poet-observer. See. that excellent has also on occasions with his multiple intelligence. informs me tliat he has been able to detect the possible hand of PhiHpon in only a relatively small number of tlie Mayeux caricatures. 1843. his Militairiana^^ and his Malades et Medecins. he has also been responsible for some very good grotesque drawings in which the central idea usually tells at first sight. in which he has always revealed a solemn poetry. . Apart from his paintings and his etchings. in Le Charivari.178 SOME FRENCH CARICATURISTS artist Jacque. and his caricature.

like all very adventurous artists. that is who fills among the most eminent in the the memory Hke a proverb— it Hogarth that I have no objection to that. not only with artists but also in the polite world: an artist sphere of the comic. It wounds and harrows. complete and however— I was about to say. so Hterary and so fidgety a manner. Well. according to him. for the reader— the reverse sometimes hap- pens. I have often heard said of he is the death and burial of the comic muse. See pi. and in these latter you will recogand spontaneity. Undoubtedly one of the most curious of all is the plate which shows us a corpse stretched out stiff and flat on the dissection-table. the plates of Marriage d-la-mode with The Rake's Progress.^ On a pulley. Compare. The remark can of course be taken as a witticism. the intestines of the dead debauchee are being unwound. but I am anxious for it to be understood as a tribute. for my part. 77. Gin Lane. and the nize a far greater freedom . Hogarth has He does not always adopt so harsh. or some other piece of tackle attached to the ceihng. however. For the spectator. loads all else— Hogarth.SOME FOREIGN CARICATURISTS HOGARTH— CRUIKSHANK— GOYA— PINELLI— BRUEGHEL An altogether popular name. Brutal and violent. before Grandville. Distress'd Poet. astringent and funereal ingredient. yet always absorbed with the moral meaning of his composiHogarth. so that they intelligence. I find in this ill-intentioned axiom the symptom and the diagnosis of a quite especial merit. that Hogarth's talent does indeed include in its composition a cold. Be assured. may end by retarding and confusing the However. How horrible is this most corpse-like of corpses! ^ The Reward of Cruelty. The Enrag'd Musician quite a variety of styles and samples to offer. tions—a moraHst. in fact. for example. elucidate his thought. like our them with allegorical is and to allusive details whose just function.

l80 SOME FOREIGN CARICATURISTS to it and what could provide a more singular contrast the surrounding figures of all than those British doctors— tall. But this is not the place to make a detailed analysis of Hogarth's works. quite apart from the innumerable mishaps and the grotesque disasters with which the path of a drunkard's Hfe is strewn.^ As with the " rest of the EngHsh. while a barrel-organ provided the dying man with a funeral mind of that historical pig service. whose admirable squibs on shooting and fishing— that two-fold epic of fanaticism— are famihar to all. so to speak. these are almost always cases of violent death. Gin Lane. and I want to limit myself to establishing the general character which informs the works of each important artist.^ I declared a to moment ago that our studio witticism ought be taken in the sense of a tribute. numerous appreciations of this unique and punctilious morahst have already been written. . He was tlie original inventor of the marvellous allegory of the spider weaving her web between the arm and the line of a fisherman who sits so still that no impatience could ever disturb his composure. the violent and the ruthless which characterizes almost every product of the land of spleen. The matter became a cause celebre. long. which scarce seem comic from our French point of view. being played in order to drown his cries. The barrel-organ was part of the plot. skinny or stout. While we are on the subject of England it would be unjust not to mention Seymour. we find in Seymoin: a Fualdes was assassinated at Rodez in 1817. Hogarth. grotesquely solemn and topped with monstrous periwigs? In one corner there is a dog gluttonously foraging in a bucket and filching some human remains from it. the death and burial of the comic musel I would sooner call him the comic muse of death and burial. Hogarth's man-eating dog has always put me in which outraged all decency by getting drunk on the blood of the hapless Fualdes. includes some terrible incidents too. ^ The idea was afterwards borrowed by Monnier. for example. And indeed with Hogarth I do find myself renewing acquaintance with that indefinable breath of the sinister.

SOME FOREIGN CARICATURISTS violence. etc.—is his inexhaustible abun- dance in the grotesque. Dobbs singing "Hearts as warm as those above lie under the waters cold. The is grotesque If it his natural habit. Pickwick. 'Oh! the deep. . a collection of Seymour's Humorous Sketches which had been published separately. and deep direct manner to caricature. of such a quantity of grotesque characters. Her legs are all that we can see of the unhappy creature. situations. projecting above the level of the water and standing straight up. The caption continues: 'Mr. at 3d each. his subtlety of expression. rhymes from the pen of a natural poet. however close their kinship may be in appearance—I should say that the essence of Cruikshank's *No. a stout Londoner in bhssful contemplation. 153 in Sketches by Seymour (1867). and thus the creator of the original image of Mr. serenely seated in a rowing boat. be credited if the proofs were not before our very eyes in the form of an immense ceuvre." ' Seymour was the illustrator of the first two parts of The Pickwick Papers. This imbecile will not find her. the seal' cries of stating his subject. nor indeed would it A verve such as his is unimaginable. toes in air. between 1834 and 1836.* a even make out is in such an extreme of ecstasy that he does not notice the two stout legs of his dear wife. The all his special merit of George Cruikshank— setting aside other merits. l8l ultra-brutal and a simple. a long series of comic albums—in short. a numberless collection of vignettes. when it comes EngHsh are extremists. a love of the excessive. 180. It seems that this massive party has allowed herself to tumble head first into that very Hquid element whose sight so stirs the thick brain of her spouse. his under- standing of the fantastic. Soon enough that stalwart nature-lover will be looking round phlegmatically for his wife— and he I fancy that you can still few rooftops in the distance. See p. scenes and physiognomies that the observer's memory quite loses its bearings. was possible to make an unerring analysis of a thing so fugitive and impalpable as feeling in art— that indefinable something which always distinguishes one artist from another. The grotesque flows inevitably like pluperfect and incessantly from Cruikshank's etching-needle. a quarter of a league from harboLir.

Only too more than human hypotheses. pp. Moreover. than an artist. often they are no Cruikshank is an artist endowed with rich comic gifts. On the subject of Goya. with reference to his technical methods— aquatint and etch- New horizons in the by a most extraordinary ^ Vol. in short. if all with indescribable high much their limbs are in their but without worrying too proper places. the artist forgets to endow a little his characters with a sufficient vitality. . Their assumed childishness has not raised their temperature by one degree. I. 1842. The only fault that one might criticize is that he is often more of a wit. reprinted in the Voyage en Espagne.^ which has since been reprinted in a miscellaneous volume. so to speak. The whole of this diminucompany rushes pell-meU through its thousand capers spirits. such as he is. n comic have been opened up in Spain man.. within the Each one of his little creatures mimes his part and ferment. much Hke always tive those men of letters He draws who amuse too themselves scribbling sketches.iSz SOME FOREIGN CARICATURISTS grotesque is an extravagant violence of gesture and movement. and one who Vidll retain his place in every collection. and a kind of explosion. in a frenzy might suppose that in the pleasure that he feels in giving way to his prodigious verve. I must start by referring my readers to Th6ophile Gautier's excellent article in the Cabinet de T Amateur. and the quality of their draughtsmanship leaves even more to be desired than that of their victim. that he is not always an entirely conscientious draughtsman. You expression. which wriggle about as best they can. 337 S. Th^ophile Gautier is perfectly equipped to understand a nature such as Goya's. more of a cartoonist. His fascinating Httle creatures are not bom to Hve and breathe. is but even his manner and style? But happily naivete not a thing to be stolen. In a word. But what is one to say of those modern French plagiarists whose impertinence goes to the length of appropriating not only his subjects and ideas. like a pantomime-actor.



ing mixed, with heightenings of drypoint— the article in question contains all that is required. All I want to do is to add a few words upon that very precious element which Goya introduced into the comic—I want to speak about the fantastic. Goya does not fit exactly into any of the special
or particular categories; his
of course

neither the absolute nor the

purely significative comic, in the French manner. Often

he plunges down

to the savage level, or soars


to the heights of the absolute, but the general aspect


which he sees things is above all fantastic; or rather, the eye which he casts upon things translates them naturally
into the language of fantasy.

The Caprichos

are a marvel-

on account of the originality of their conceptions, but also on account of their execution. I like to imagine a man suddenly faced with them— an enthusiast, an amateur, who has no notion of the historical facts alluded to in several of these prints, a simple artistic soul who does not know the first thing about Godoy, or King Charles, or the Queen; but for all that he will experience
lous work, not only

a sharp shock at the core of his brain, as a result of the
artist's original maimer, the fulness and sureness of his means, and also of that atmosphere of fantasy in which all his subjects are steeped. I would go further and say that in works which spring from profoundly individual minds there is something analogous to those periodical or chronic dreams with which our sleep is regularly besieged. That is the mark of the true artist, who always remains firm and indomitable even in those fugitive works—works which are, so to speak, hung upon events—which are called caricatures.

That, I declare,


the quality which distinguishes historical



caricaturists— the fugitive

from the eternal




always a great and often a terrifying
of Cervantes


the gaiety, the joviahty, the typically Spanish satire of the

good old days


or at least

he unites a spirit far more one that has been far more sought after

in modem times—I mean a love of the ungraspable, a feeling for violent contrasts, for the blank horrors of nature




cumstances. It


countenances weirdly animahzed by curious to note that this man, who




after the great destructive










movement of would have

acknowledged his debt for all those monastic caricatures of his—for all those monks yawning or stuffing their stomachs, those bullet-headed cut-throats preparing for matins, tliose brows as crafty, hypocritical, sharp and evil as profiles of
birds of prey (or rather for the idea only of these things,
for the great





pitied for not being


of a

connoisseur in other



it is

curious, I say,

that this monk-hater should have dwelt so

much on mtches,

sabbaths, scenes of devilry, children roasting on the spit,

and Heaven knows what else— on every debauchery of dream, every hyperbole of hallucination, and not least, on all those sHm, blond Spanish girls of his, with ancient hags in attendance to wash and make them ready for the
Sabbath, perhaps, or

may be

for the


rite of pros-





Sabbath! Light and

darkness play across

these grotesque horrors;

and what

a singular kind of playfulness!


extraordinary plates





mind. The


represents a fantastic

landscape, a conglomeration of clouds and boulders. Is

a corner of some

unknown and unfrequented

Sierra? or a

sample of primeval chaos? There, at the heart of that abominable theatre, a hfe-and-death struggle is taking place between two witches, hanging in mid-air. One is astride the
other, belabouring

and mastering




these two monsters are spinning through the gloomy void.

Every kind of hideousness, every vice and moral filthiness human mind can conceive, is v^rritten upon these two faces which, according to a frequent custom and an inscrutable procedure of the artist's, stand half-way between man and beast. The second plate^ shows us a wretched being, a desthat the

Caprichos, No. 62, 'Quien lo creyeral' See

pi. 78.

Klingender ( Goya in the Democratic Tradition, London 1948, p. 221) suggests that Baudelaire is here confusing his recollection of Capricho No. 59 ('Y aun no se van!') with Gautier's description of the Nada print in tlie Desastres de la guerra. Certainly Baudelaire's description is inaccurate if he has Capricho No. 59 in mind.

perate and solitary

to get out

monad whose one



A crowd of mischievous demons, a myriad gnomes are bearing down with all their united e£Forts upon the cover of the half-gaping sepulchre. These watchful guardians of death have banded together against a rebelhous soul which is wearing itself out in its impostomb.

sible struggle. This

throbbing nightmare





the horror of the vague and the indefinite.

At the end of
point at which

his career Goya's eyesight


to the

be sharpened for him. Yet even at this stage he was able to produce some large and very important Hthographs, amongst them a set of bullfighting scenes,^ full of rout and rabble, wonderful plates, vast pictures in miniature— new proofs in support of that curious law which presides over the destinies of great artists, and which wills it that, as life and understanding follow opposing principles of development, so they should win on the swings what they lose on the roundabouts, and thus should ti-ead a path of progressive youth and go on renewing and reinvigorating themselves, growing
it is

said that his pencils


in boldness to the very brink of the grave.

In the foreground of one-^ of these prints, in which a wonderful tumult and hurly-burly prevails, is an enraged buU— one of the spiteful kind that savage the dead. It has just unbreeched the hinder parts of one of the combatants. No more than wounded, the poor wretch is heayily dragging himself along on his knees. The formidable beast has lifted his torn shirt with its horns, thus exposing his buttocks to view; and now, once again, down comes that threatening muzzle— but the audience is scarcely moved by this unseemly episode amid the carnage. Goya's great merit consists in his having created a credible form of the monstrous. His monsters are born viable, harmonious. No one has ventured further than he
in the direction of the possible absurd. All those distortions,

those bestial faces, those diabolic grimaces of his are impregnated with humanity. Even from the special viewpoint of natural history it would be hard to condemn them,
* °


four litliographs


as the 'Toros

de Burdeos'.

Dibersion de Espana.

SO great

the analogy and harmony between

the parts

of their being. In a word, the line of suture, the point of

junction between the real
to grasp;
it is

and the




a vague frontier which not even the subtlest

is the extent to which the transcendent and the natural concur in his art.*

analyst could trace, such

However southern
that of Spain,


be, the climate of Italy



and the fermentation of the comic in that country does not produce the same results. The pedantry of the Italians— I use that word for want of a better—has found its expression in the caricatures of Leonardo da Vinci and in PineUi's scenes of contemporary manners. Every artist knows Leonardo's caricatures—they are veritable portraits. Cold and hideous, those caricatures are not lacking in cruelty—it is the comic that they lack; there is no expansiveness, no abandon about them, for the great artist was not amusing himself when he drew them; he made
fessor of natural history.

them, rather, in his capacity as savant, geometrician, proHe was careful not to omit the least wart, the smallest hair. Perhaps, on the whole, he laid no claim to be doing caricatures. He looked round him for eccentric types of ugliness, and copied them. Nevertheless the Italian character is not Hke this as a rule. Its humour is low, but it is open and frank. We can get a just idea of it from Bassano's pictures representing the Venetian carnival. ^ Here we find a gaiety which is bubbling over with sausages, hams and macaroni. Once a year the Italian comic spirit makes its explosion in the Corso, and then it reaches the bounds of frenzy. Everyone
* Some years ago we possessed several precious paintings by Goya, though they were unhappily relegated to obscure corners of the gallery; they disappeared, however, along with the Musie Espagnol. ( c.b. ) See n. on p. 3.


One such painting, by Leandro Bassano, is in the KunsthisMuseum, Vienna, and it is possible that Baudelaire may have seen a print of it. Even so, the name of Bassano seems
in the present context.

an odd one



witty, everyone

becomes a comic


Marseilles or

Bordeaux could perhaps provide us with samples of similar temperaments. Just see how well HoflFmann understood the
Italian character in his Princess Bramhilla,
sitively it is discussed

and how sen-

by the German




at the

Cafe Greco I^ But the

Italian artists are

than comics. They lack depth, but they
the South generally
Callot, a

clowns rather submit to the
of the

sheer intoxication of their national gaiety. Materiahstic, as

humour always smacks

kitchen and the bordello. But

things considered,




who, by the concentration of wit
It is

and the firmness

of will proper to our country, has given

finest expression to this species of the


Frenchman who has remained the best

Italian clown.


short while ago I spoke of PineUi, the classic Pinelli,

whose glory is now a very diminished one. We would not call him a caricaturist, exactly— he is rather a snapper-up of picturesque scenes. I only mention him at all because the days of my youth were burdened by hearing him
praised as the type of the noble caricaturist. In point of

the comic does not enter into his composition at


save in infinitesimal doses.

What we

find in all the artist's

studies is a constant preoccupation with line and with antique compositions, a systematic aspiration towards style.

But Pinelli— and


has doubtiess contributed not a

to his reputation—Pinelli

had an


which was

much more

His originality displayed itself far more in his character than in his works. For he was one of the most perfect types of the artist, as the good bourgeois imagines him to be— that is, of classic disorder, of inspiration expressing itself in imseemly and
romantic than his
violent behaviour. Pinelli possessed all the charlatanism of
certain artists: his two enormous dogs which followed him everywhere, like comrades or confidants, his great gnarled stick, his locks in double pigtails framing his cheeks, the tavern, the low company, the deliberate practice of ostentatiously destroying works for which he was not offered a

^The Cafe Greco,

in the Via Condotti, Rome, had been a favourite resort of artists and writers since the latter part of the 18th century.


formed part
of his reputa-

satisfactory price— all these things

household was hardly better ordered than the conduct of its master. Sometimes he returned home to find that his wife and daughter had come to blows,


and excitability of their he shouted to them. *Don't move! Stay still!' And the drama was transformed into a drawing. It is clear that Pinelli was one of those artists who wander through objective nature in the hope that she will come to the aid of their mental laziness, and
their eyes flashing fire in all the fury



Pinelli this

was superb:



are always ready to snatch


their brushes.



in one respect,


may be Hkened

to the unfortunate


and only in, nature those ready-made subjects which, for more imaginative artists, are only good for notes. And yet Pinelli, no less than Leopold Robert, always put these subjects— and even the most nationally comic and picturesque of them— through the sieve, through the merciless filter of taste. Has Pinelli been slandered? I do not know; but such is his legend. Now all this seems to me to be a sign of weakness. I wish that someone would invent a neologism, I wish that someone would manufacture a word destined to blast once and for all this species of the poncif— the 'poncif' in conduct and behaviour, which creeps into the life of artists
pold Robert,


claimed to find

as into their works.


besides I cannot help noticing that

history frequently presents us with the contrary,




are the

and that most inventive, the most astonish-

ing and the most eccentric in their conceptions are often

men whose

life is calm and minutely ordered. Several of them have had the most highly-developed domestic virtues. Have you not often noticed that there is nothing more like

the perfect bourgeois than the

artist of

concentrated genius?


From the beginning the Flemish and the Dutch have done very fine things, of a really special and indigenous character.



familiar with the extraordinary, early

productions of Brueghel 'the Droll',i




not to be con-

fused with


Brueghel,^ as several writers have done.

vention of eccentricity, a

That he betrays a certain systematization, a certain conmethod in the bizarre, is in no doubt. But it is also quite certain that this weird talent of

his has a loftier origin than in a species of artistic wager. In the fantastic pictures of Brueghel the Droll the full

of hallucination is revealed to us. But what artist could produce such monstrously paradoxical works if he had not been driven from the outset by some unknown


force? In art— and this


a thing which
is left






the portion that

to the




less great



generally believed.


which Brueghel seems

The baroque have pursued shows many

with that of Grandville, particularly if you will examine carefuUy the tendencies which the French artist displayed during the last years of his Hfe: visions of a sick

brain, hallucinations of fever, dream's-eye transformations,






and anomalous

combinations of forms. The works of Brueghel the Droll can be divided into two



contains political allegories which are

you windows, windmills with himian arms for wings, and a thousand other terrifying compositions in which nature is ceaselessly transformed into a kind of anagram. And yet it is quite often impossible to decide whether this kind of composition belongs to the class of political and allegorical designs, or to the second class, which is patently the more curious. The works in this second class seem to me to contain a special kind of
almost undecipherable today;
it is

in this series that

find houses with eyes instead of

mystery, although the present age, which, thanks to


double character of increduHty and ignorance, finds nothing difficult to explain, would doubtless quaHfy them simply as fantasies and capriccios. The recent researches of a few doctors^ who have at last gHmpsed the need to explain a
^ ^

Peter Brueghel, the Elder.
Peter Brueghel, the Younger.


may be
J. J.

thinking of such doctors as Brierre de

Boismont and

Moreau (de Tours), whose Des Hallucina-



mass of

and miraculous

facts otherwise

than by

the means of the Voltairean school (which could nowhere
see further than cleverness in charlatanry)— even these re-

searches are very far from disentangling


the secret

mysteries of the soul.

anyone to explain the diabolic and diverting farrago of Brueghel the Droll otherwise than by a kind of special, Satanic grace. For the words 'special grace' substitute, if you wish, the words madness' or ^hallucination'; but the mystery will remain almost as dark. Brueghel's collected works^ seem to spread a contagion; his absurd capers make one's head swim. How could a human intelligence contain so many marvels and devilries? how could it beget and describe so many terrifying extravagances? I cannot understand it, nor can I positively determine the reason. But often in history, and even in more than one chapter of modem history, do we find
I challenge


proof of the immense power of contagions, of poisoning
taking place through the moral atmosphere; and I cannot

from observing (but without pretension, v^thout pedantry, without positive aim, as of seeking to prove that Brueghel was permitted to see the devil himself
restrain myself

in person) that this prodigious efflorescence of monstrosities

coincided in the most surprising manner with the notorious



epidemic of witchcraft.

and Du Hachisch et de T alienation mentale (respectively) had been published in 1845. * Baudelaire must have known Brueghel almost entirely through




THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. it is more or and the immense unisacred. and the miraculous way in which they come to one another's aid in the harmony of the universe. It seems that Baudeapproach to his task was not acceptable to his employers. to put it even better. on series of articles 1855. I and hierarchy— as a comparison of the nations and their respective products. and from the 6th July a journalist called Louis Enault took over the succession. When I say liier- have no wish are nation over another. to the idea of a universal order archy'. a dreamer whose mind is given to generalization as well as to the study of details— or. certain animals more or less although. but only the first and third of the following articles were published in that paper (26th May and 3rd June). . plants less to assert the supremacy of any one Although Nature contains certain which more or less holy. following the promptings of versal analogy. to their surroundings) *The Exposition Arts Universelle opened at the Palais des Beaux- (the new Palais de V Industrie) . Avenue Montaigne. and. the second article was published 15th May later in laire's Le Portefeuitle (12th August). more or less near to Heaven— nevertheless all I wish to do here is to assert their equal utility in the eyes of Him who is indefinable. so attractive. Any reader who has been at all accustomed by solitude (far better than by books) to these vast contemplations will already have guessed the point that I am wanting to make. Baudelaire had been commissioned to write a on the subject for Le Pays. and revelations for a critic. to cut across the periphrastics and hesitations of Style tain nations (vast animals. 18551 CRITICAL METHOD— ON THE MODERN IDEA OF PROGRESS AS APPLIED TO THE FINE ARTS — ON THE SHIFT OF VITALITY There can be few occupations so full of surprises so interesting. legitimate for us to conclude that cer- whose organisms are adequate have been prepared and educated by Providence for a determined goal— a goal more or less lofty. certain forms spiritual.

they are the idols of the lazy). in the form of memories. to work a transformation in himself is which par- takes of the nature of a mystery— it necessary for him.^ world. to the day of his death. The best endowed in this respect are those solitary wanderers who have lived for years in the heart of forests. for the spectator. If. while the shocks and surprises of disembarkation might be great. and sometimes delicate to the point of evanescence? And yet such a thing is a specimen of universal beauty. dissecting. writing. to Morocco and Turkey respectively. strange. and had been indelibly affected by them). they contemplate. and of that of Delacroix and Decamps (both of whom had made early journeys. to learn of himself to participate in the sur- roundings which have given birth to this singular flowering. it is necessary for the critic. by means of a phenomenon of the will acting upon the imagination. . always provided that he has thought and travelled a httle. and transport * Baudelaire was doubtless thinking of his own experience. in the midst of illimitable prairies. with no other companion but their veil. the nation overflows with them. What faced with a product of China— something weird. They know the admirable. and the business of habituation more or less long and laborious. Such people do not criticize. eternal and inevitable relationship between form and function. Let him imagine a modern Winckelmann (we are would he say. I were to take a man of the him to a faraway country. but all can acquire it in different degrees. no academic utopia has intervened between them and the complex truth.CRITICAL METHOD I93 with a question which is ahnost equivalent to a formula. distorted in form. so penetrating. Few men gun— contemplating. that it would create in him a whole new world of ideas. intense in colour. which would form an integral part of himself and would accompany him. instead of a pedagogue. nevertheless sooner or later his sympathy would be so keen. they study. I feel sure that. an intelligent being. have the divine grace of cosmopohtanism in its entirety. The 'journey to the Orient' was a classic Romantic experience. if full of them. I will put it thus to any honest man. but in order for it to be understood. No scholastic no university paradox.

^i. 1855 Those curiously-shaped buildings. and barbaric when they are themselves judged). Italian or Parisian. those perfumes. whose deep colour forces an entrance into his eye. locked up within the blinding fortress of his system. he will do Hke the converted Sicambrian^ and burn what he had formerly adored— and adore what he had formerly burnt. will patiently penetrate him. whose gait is not measured according to the accustomed beat. he would prohibit that insolent race from enjoying. paralysed by the pen. What would he say? what. more barbarous than the barbarians themselves! you that have forgotten the colour of the sky. be it Greek. as Heinthem— Heine. and under the influence of his fanaticism. and it is even possible that. like the vapours of a perfumed Turkish bath. all that undreamt-of vitality will be added to his own vitality. those plants and trees which are disquieting for a mind filled with memories of its native land. those men and women whose muscles do not pulse to the classic rhythms of his country. and reveals to the palate ideas which belong to the sense of smell. I repeat. *In his Salon of 1831. several thousands of ideas and sensations will enrich his earthly dictionary. going a step too far and transforming justice into revolt. . Or take one of those rich Heine* calls modern 'aesthetic pundits'. the movement and the smell of animalityl you whose wizened fingers. which at first provoke his academic eye (all people are academic when they judge others.194 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE.e. all that world of new harmonies will enter slowly into him. that deHghtful creature. he would blaspheme both life and nature. who would be a genius if he turned more often towards the divine. bastard taste. from dreaming or from thinking in any other ways but his very own. Clovis. can no doctrinaire of Beauty would rave. Oh ink-smudged science. and whose gaze is not directed with the same magnetic power. those mysterious flowers. while his glance is teased by their shape. which are no longer the perfumes of his mother's boudoir. those fruits whose taste deludes and deranges the senses. would he write if faced wiXh such unfamiliar phenomena? The crazy no doubt.

. vast. neat. spacious. ^ Miss Gilman (p.CRITICAL METHOD 195 longer run with agility up and down the immense keyboard of the universal correspondences!^ Like all my friends I have tried more than once to lock myself up within a system in order to preach there at my ease. 113) points out that this is the first time that Baudelaire uses this important word in its full sense. unexpected product of universal vitaHty would come to give the He to my childish and superannuated wisdom— that lamentable child of Utopia! It was no good shifting or stretching my criterion— it always lagged behind universal to a perpetual recantation. and above all. But a system is a kind of damnation which forces one it is always necessary to be and the drudgery involved is a cruel punishment. Now my system was always beautiful. But always some spontaneous. convenient. inventing a new one. water-tight. at least so it seemed to me.

and at can declare—in so far as any man can answer for his virtues— that my mind now rejoices in a more abundant impartiality. which is one of the great joys produced by art and Hterature. The Beautiful is always strange. I mean it that it strangeness. I took a great decision. and however delicate and diflBcult of expression my idea may be. I haughtily re- signed myself to modesty. for in that case it would be a monstrosity that had jumped Anyone can it is easily understand that ness to express beauty the rails of Hfe.' {Ligeia. and that is this touch of strangeness that •Cf. is there least I philosophic conscience has found its rest. unpremeditated always contains a touch of and unconscious strangeness. and never stopped chasing after multiform and multicoloured Beauty as it moved in the infinite spirals of life. of simple. deliberately strange. Lord Venilam. I humbly beg pardon of the academics various workrooms of our that of all kinds who occupy But it the artistic factory. my if those whose busiwere to conform to the rules of the pundits. all ideas and all sensations would be fused into a vast. To escape from horror of these philosophical apostasies. and elsewhere.) . 1855 man.^ I do not mean that it is coldly. is due to this very variety of types and sensations. With all due respect to the over-proud sophists who have taken their wisdom from books. I returned to seek refuge in impeccable naivete. I became content to feel. would be effaced from life. Variety. impersonal and monotonous unity.196 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. I shall go even further. the sine qua non of life. kind of mandarin-tyrant— always puts me in mind of a godless man who substitutes himself for God. The aesthetic pundit—a. Condemned unremittingly to the humiliation of a new the conversion. Poe. who quotes Bacon: "'There is no exquisite beauty. beauty itself would disappear from the earth. So true is it that in the multiple productions of art there is an element of the ever-new which will eternally elude the rules and analyses of the schooll That shock of surprise. since all types.' says Bacon. I do not despair of succeeding. as immense as boredom or total negation. speaking truly of all the forms and " genera of beauty. Vithout some strangeness in the proportion.

plays in art the role of taste and seasoning in cooking (may the exactness of this comparison excuse its scientific danger to art itself? This triviahty!). Therefore. so to speak—its mathematical characteristic. depending temple or other on this planet. the manners. Others enough true nature. concerning that great genius?) that one day he found himself in front of a beautiful picture— a melancholy winter-scene. upon warmth and coldness of tone. setting aside their utiHty or the quantity of nutritive substance which dishes differ which they contain. 'But what are they doing in that cottage? What are their thoughts? what are their sorrows? . the rehgion and the temperament of the artist—how could it ever be controlled. irreducible Now how varied strangeness. The story is told of Balzac (and who would not listen with respect to any anecdote. the race. and that after gazing at a Httle house from which a thin wisp of smoke was rising. which constitutes and defines individuahty (without which there can be no Beauty). and of pleasure. I shall steer clear of all kind of pedantry.CRITICAL METHOD IQ/ gives it its particular quality as Beauty. And I hope that a few people who are learned without pedantry will find my ignorance to their liking. in the glorious task of analysing this fine exhibition. heavy with hoar-frost and thinly sprinkled with cottages and mean-looking peasants. upon tonal equipoise. In many cases erudition seems to me to be a childish thing and but little reveahng of its so baffling for the pedagogues. It is its endorsement. 'How beautiful it is!' he cried. and try to imagine a commonplace Beauty! and infinitely upon the environment. the climate. so varied in its elements. the only way in from one another is in the idea which they reveal to the palate. without mortal dash of strangeness. etc. so disturbing in its variety. amended and corrected by Utopian rules conceived in some little could this necessary. Reverse the proposition. no matter how trivial. Oh Vanity! I choose instead to speak in the of morality name of feeling. since. and endeavour to will speak the jargon of the studio and will exhibit themselves to the detriment of the pictures. I would find it only too easy to discourse subtly upon symmetrical or balanced composition.

an evocation. Hcensed without guarantee of Nature or of of 'progress'. has discharged each man from his duty. 1855 been a good harvest? No doubt they l%ave hills to fay?' Laugh if you will at M. at least it we have no right— would be the acme for pedants of imbecility!—to discuss the magician's formulae of evocation. history Anyone who wants first to see his way clear through and foremost extinguish this treacherous beacon. I refer to the idea gloomy beacon. and when the evoked character. but I think that in this way. which has flowered upon the rotten soil of modem fatuity. You will often find me appraising a picture exclusively for the it sum (if of ideas or of dreams that Painting is mind. I do not know the name of the painter whose honour it was to set the great novelist's soul a-quiver with anxiety and conjecture. error which I am anxious to avoid like the very devil. a magical operation suggests to my only we could consult the hearts of children on the subject!). There is yet another. discipline vanishes. de Balzac. he has given us an excellent lesson in criticism. . the words to 'its 'Tliis gloomy beacon' Ce fanal obscur nel desespoir) ) down own was absent from eternal despair' ( son Sterthe text as printed in Le Pays. slumber of decrepitude upon the pillow of their Such an infatuation is the symptom of an already his too obvious decadence. with his delectable naivete.igS has it THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. This God—this modem lantern thi-ows all a stream of darkness upon the objects of knowledge. when the reanimated idea has stood forth and looked us in the face. liberty melts away. the dwindling races of the earth Mnll fall into the destiny. This grotesque idea. has dehvered each soul from its responsibifity and has released the will from all the bonds imposed upon it by the love of the Beautiful. . I more mortifying know of no problem and philosophizers than to attempt to discover in virtue of what law it is that artists who are the most opposed in their method can evoke the same ideas and stir up analogous feelings within us. and very fashionable. Take any good Frenchman who reads ^ newspaper ( The whole passage from . drivelling must And if this disastrous folly lasts for long. .''' invention of present-day philosophizing.

proceeding See Fusees XXII: *La mecanique nous aura teUement amerisi bien atrophic en nous toute la partie spirituelle. except in your credulity and your fatuity. que rien parmi les reveries sanguinaires sacrileges ou antinaturelles des utopistes ne pourra etre compare a ses re. is the darkness that has gathered in that so weird is unhappy and the confusion of the material and the spiritual orders that prevails therein! The poor man has and industrial phi- become so Americanized by all zoocratic losophers that he has lost notion of the differences which characterize the phenomena of the physical and the moral world— of the natural and the supernatural. by en- continually refining humanity in proportion to the new joyments which its ® it offers. indefinite progress would not be most cruel and ingenious torture. is the guarantee that this progress will continue overnight? For that is last year. Such brain.' sultats positifs See also Andrew Lang's Letters to Dead Authors (1886). le progres aura . and who so energeticanises. If this year an artist produces a work which gives evidence of greater knowledge or imaginative force than he showed he has made progress. He will answer that it is steam. I tell you. it is certain that sions are cheaper and of better quality how the disciples of the philosophers of steam and sulphurmatches understand it. I ask you.CRITICAL METHOD IQQ each day in his taproom. But where. you [Poe] have made tlie acquaintance of your translator. But where is that guarantee? It does not exist. of course. progress only appears to them in the form of an unending series. By this time. I leave on one side the question of deciding whether. . who so strenuously shared your views about Mr. Emerson and the Transcendentahsts. Charles Baudelaire. . M. and ask him what he understands by progress'. p. electricity and gas—miracles unknown to the Romans—whose discovery bears full witness to our superiority over the ancients. cally resisted all those ideas of "progress" Hell or Boston"/ which "came from .^ If a nation understands the issues of morahty with a greater refinement than diey were understood in the previous century. . that is an indisputable example of progress in the material order. then you have progress. If provitoday than they were yesterday. whether. 148: '. that is clear enough.

marvellously worked upon and embroidered. and whether. Every efilorescence is spontaneous. and now it streams forth from the west. those vast coUective beings. then the fight moved towards the south. Present prosperity is no more than a temporary and alasl a very short-termed guarantee. His to the self. his own God. The too well known. The theory can no longer be upheld. But it must never be forgotten that nations.zoo THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. Was Signorelli really the begetter of Michelangelo? artist Did Perugino contain Raphael? The himself. Crepet relates it to a passage in Pierre Leroux's La Greve de Samarez. fanatics of logic who have attempted to do so— the idea of progress takes the stage with a gigantic absurdity. it itself would not be like the scorpion which stings with its terrible tail—progress. the true prophets are seldom preceded by forerunners. They have their childhood. He dies childless. all the poetic products of her neighbours and to retxun them to other peoples. by reason of her central position in the civiKzed world. He stands He has been security only for himhis own king. It is true that France. shut up in the fiery circle of divine logic. In the poetic and artistic order. that eternal desideratum which own is its own eternal despair! Transported into the sphere of the imagination— and there have been hotheads. seems to be summoned to gather to herself all the ideas. a grotesqueness which reaches night- mare heights. it would not turn out to be a perpetually renewed form of suicide. his own priest. They mock at and confront it without flinching. which was not published until 1863. in which ^ This sentence did not occur in the text as printed in Le Pays. 1855 as it does by a stubborn negation of itself. are subject to the same laws as individuals. . indisophistry vidual.^ It is just the same with the nations that joyfully and successfully cultivate the arts of the imagination. There was a time when the dawn broke in the east. facts are too palpable. It is in prodigies like this that the finds its tiTie famous and violent formula of Pierre Leroux application. stems only from own works are the only promises that he makes coming centuries.

or the soul of Zurbaran and Velasquez among the Spaniards. would be preparing himself for a needless shock. as I half suggested a moment and goes to visit other races and it inherit lock. Hogarth and Gainsborough. I content myself with noting a very frequent occurrence in history.CRITICAL they utter their in strength METHOD 201 first stammering cries and gradually grow and size. I had wanted to begin with a glorification of our neighbours. I have neither the time. or to discover why it is that God dispossesses the nations sometimes for a while only. when they faU asleep upon their piledup riches. nor perhaps suflBcient knowledge. has become for the major- ity a ago. and novel- Crabbe. stock must not be thought that the newcomers and barrel from their predecessors. It is only out of extreme poHteness of the nation of Shakespeare. Finally they have their old age. . It often happens that it is the root principle itself that has constituted their strength. The English section of the exhibition is very fine. But I want to study them further. But preconceived idea of finding the children of Leonardo. and sometimes for ever. and worthy of a long and patient study. of the feUow-citizens of Reynolds. We are living in an age in which it is necessary to go on repeating certain platitudes—in an arrogant age which beheves itself to be above the misadventures of Greece and Rome. most uncommonly fine. to investigate what are the laws which shift artistic vitaHty. They have their youth and maturity. Byron. Anyone who visited the Expodtion Universelle with the other lands. or that they receive from them a ready-made body of doctrine. and the process of development that has brought with it tlieir decadence— above all when that root principle. Raphael and Michelangelo among the ItaHans. Maturin and Godwin. Then. the vital spirit shifts kind of routine. It often happens (as happened in the middle ages) that all being lost. I have an excellent excuse. which was formerly quickened by an all-conquering enthusiasm. of that nation so admirably rich in poets ists. the period of sound and courageous works. the spirit of Diirer among the Germans. all has to be re-fashioned.

When David. a great revolution took place. that they fixed this goal steadfastly before and that they marched by the hght of their sun with a frankness. Without analysing here the goal which they pursued. without endorsing its legitimacy or considering whether they did not overshoot it. a resolution and an esprit de corps worthy of true party-men. But the passage devoted to English painters in the Salon de 1859 (see pp. let us state quite simply that they had a goal. INGRES The French section of this exhibition is at once so vast and is in general made up of such familiar items— quite enough of whose bloom has aheady been rubbed off by the artistic curiosity of the metropolis—that the duty of criticism should be to seek to penetrate deep into the tempera- ment and activating motives of each artist. I remember most distinctly the prodigious reverence which in the days of our childhood surrounded all those their eyes. . 1855 am putting off such a pleasurable task. propose make a rapid study of the principal masters of the to analyse the elements of progress or it French School.^^ I begin therefore with an easier undertaking. further. When the harsh idea softened and became tender beneath the brush of Gros. a great goal which consisted in reaction against an excess of gay and charming frivolities. and which I want neither to appraise nor to define. I am I biding my to time in order to do better. with Gu6rin and Girodet (his historical satellites. and the seeds of dissolution that contains within it. rose above the horizon of art.202 that I THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. rather than to attempt to analyze and describe each work minutely. that icy star. who might be called the dialecticians of the party). 221-2 below) was clearly based on notes and studies made at this time. artificial " There is no evidence that Baudelaire's article on the English painters was ever written. the cause was already lost.

but they were not always quite so Greek and Roman as they wished to appear. or rather posing. Does it not seem to you that Gu^rin's Dido^— so affectedly and theatrically adorned. like their prophet. and that her moist eye. bathed in the misty vapours of a Keepa kind of religious awe. I was irreverently bold enough to utter the word 'freakish'. those grave and lanky Adonises. No one. so languorously stretched out in the setting sun. one or two amusing and sinister symptoms of future Romanticism—so dedicated were they. all 203 those academic spectres human freaks. it is true. almost looks forward to certain of Balzac's Parisian heroines? As for Girodet's AtalaJ^ whatever certain ageing wags may think of it. beneath a greenish light. I could not look at them without And the whole of that truly extrawas forever moving about. natural world sake. A moment ago. who were once over-praised and today are over-scorned. had the great merit—if you wiH not concern yourself too much with their eccentric methods and systems— of bringing back the taste for heroism into the French character. That endless contemplation of Greek and Roman history could not. in the Louvre. it would not be hard to find in them a few shght specks of corruption. the latter behind pedantically transparent draperies)—believe me. to the spirit of melodrama. But today we are faced wdth a man of an immense and incontestable renown. after all. never ceased to be heroic— David the inflexible. . in connection with those illustrious unfortunates. a fantastic parody of the real sim. but have a salutary Stoic influence. But as for Guerin and Girodet. then. ^ Exhibited at the 1808 Salon: now now in the Louvre. But these masters. David. as drama it is far superior to a whole crowd of unmentionable modem insipidities. those prudishly chaste and classically voluptuous —those elongated women (the former shielding their modesty beneath an- tique swords. in order to explain the sensations Exhibited at the 1817 Salon. hke an indolent Creole woman—reveals more kinship v^dth the first visions of Chateaubriand than with the conceptions of Virgil. whose work is very much more difficult to understand and to explain. the despotic evangehst.INGRES unintentionally fantastic figures. could object ^ if.

lost though they were amid their academic gymnastics— the Imagination. Before broaching the subject more seriously. It I by the awareness population whose too palpable and visible extraneity would make our is no longer that childlike rev- erence of which spoke a moment ago— that reverence which possessed us in front of the Sabines. now in the Louvre. the physical atmosphere of a chemistry labora- that one is in the presence of an unearthly order of being. of uneasiness. this famous. This impression. I say that they feel themselves face to face with a freakishness far more complex and mysterious than that of the masters of the Repubof certain sorts of artistic tact lican and Imperial school—whence. to record a first impression I am anxious which has been felt by many people and which they will inevitably remember the moment that they enter the sanctuary consecrated to the works of M. painter has merits— charms. . has vanished. a deficiency. now in the Brussels Museum. that Queen of the Faculties. and in his own way revolutionary. nevertheless. even—which are so indisputable (and whose origin I shall shortly analyse) that it would be absurd not to record at this point a gap. We might almost call it a negative sensation. Ingres. ^ By Girodet.^ It is a powerful sensation. in unknown quantities. a shrinkage in his stock of spiritual faculties. 1855 temperament when placed in conwith the works of M. Ingres's power?— but of an inferior. which sustained his great predecessors. of an order of being which imitates the unearthly— of an automatic senses swim. * By David. which is hard to define— and which partakes. I do not propose to push irreverence and ill-will to the lengtlis ' By David. it took its point of departure. boredom and fear—reminds one vaguely and involuntarily of the feelings of faintness induced by the rarefied tory.204 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. or air.^ and of The Death of Marat"^— in front of the Deluge^ or the melodramatic Brutus. No more imagination. now in tlie Louvre. therefore no more movement. In fact. let me say. as must be owned right away. rather. it is true— why deny M. an almost morbid variety. if the phrase were admissible. The Imagination. Ingres.

a massacrer of faculties. beauties. no more is it its the representation Italianate. a man of fierce and indomitable will. produce robust temperaments like these—protestants. its over- of great historical scenes (in spite of Italianate. Symphorian. The providence which presides over the affairs of painting gives them as confederates all those whom the ideas of the prevailing opposition have worn down or oppressed. no less. .INGRES of saying that this is 205 an act of resignation on the part of M. who also is a mighty workman. ® own simultaneously with the ''Such paintings as the Baigneuses (1853) some scandal. in that they also reveal a dissenting spirit. It is certainly not the translation of sentiments.^ which Courbet held an exhibition of his Exposition Universelle. comes near to a in this particular that he young painter whose remarkable debut^ took place recently with all the violence of an armed revolt. In their war against the imagination they are obedient to different motives. I have sufficient insight into his character to it is hold that with him upon the altar of those faculties an heroic immolation. However enormous a paradox it may seem. had already caused ^In Autun Cathedral (Wildenstein 212). PoHtics and Hterature. his picture of St. I refer of course to M. a sacrifice which he sincerely considit is ers as nobler and more important. Courbet. positive performed by M. let us ask what is M. Ingres. and the results that he has achieved—results that for certain minds have already more charm than those of the great master of the Raphaelesque tradition. to resume the regular course of our analysis. emotions. whose sole justification is a spirit of reaction which is sometimes salutary. Courbet on behalf of exand immediate Nature. or variations of those emotions and sentiments. Ingres's goal. And now. But the difference is that the heroic sacrifice offered by M. Ingres in honour of the idea and the tradition of Raphael- esque Beauty is ternal. anti-supernaturaHsts. owing doubtless to their positive soHdity and their unabashed indeli- cacy'''— have just the same pecuHarity. but their two opposing varieties of fanaticism lead them to the same immolation.

It is just this coupling which often gives his works their singular charm. at once savage of the orthodox heathen) . purse in hand. What made is the quality of is it M. improved. 1855 down to the very congestion of its Italianized figures. that nature ought to be corrected. and indifferent. to which he has added the frills and furbelows of modern art. embodiments of calm and flourishing health—here lie his triumph and his joy! But at this point a question arises which has been a thousand times debated. and which is still worth returning to. M. M. one of those routine portrait-factories to which I ideal a common lout can go. Ingres's man with a system. Ingres might be expected to succeed above all in portraiture. Ingres's drawing? Is it of a superior order? absolutely intelligent? Anyone who has a comparison of the graphic styles of the leading masters will understand drawing is the drawing of a me when I say that M. but in the works of the present master. nor the bestiality. He holds artifice. What then is M. Beautiful women. and in fact it is precisely ia this genre that he has achieved his greatest and his most legitimate successes. rich and generous natures. and it must be admitted that he brings a wonderful discernment to his choice of those that are best suited to exploit his especial kind of talent. Formerly it was said that nature must be interpreted and translated as a whole and in her total logic. Thus smitten with an ideal which is an enticingly adulterous union between Raphael's calm solidity and the gewgaws of a petitemaitresse. But he is far from being one of those paintersby-the-hour. he believes that a happily-contrived isters to and agreeable is which min- not only a right but a duty. sleight-of-hand. Ingres chooses his models. does nothing to reveal the sublime glory of a Christian victim.206 is THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. to demand the reproduction of his unseemly person. Ingres seeking? What are his dreams? What has he come into this world to say? What new appendix is he bringing to the gospel of Painting? would be inclined to believe that his ideal is a sort of composed half of good health and half of a calm which amounts almost to indifference— something analogous to the antique ideal. trickery and the eye's pleasure. .

Let us note further that. but Nature that has ravished M.INGRES violence are 207 and sometimes downHere we find an army of too-uniformly tapered fingers whose narrow extremities cramp the nails. From all that goes before. in one place— a thing less pardonable. and the first thing required was to obey and to please the master. carried away as he is by this almost morbid preoccupation with style. But Raphael loved stout arms. that muscular forearm. would have expected to be square-tipped—indicative of a mind given to mascuHne pursuits. our painter often various conjuring-tricks have a cuse. to the symmetry and disciplines of art. Elsewhere we shall find a navel which has strayed in the direction of the ribs. . thin as a lath. I say. an eloquent amateur of beauty. that it is not M. irreproachably ahve. and without even a fold at the knee-joint (Jupiter and Antiope^). that somewhat virile frame. or a breast which points too much towards the armpit. does away with his modelling. right deception common and sharp-practice. and one quite ahen to the human organism. and occurrences. Here again we find a sensitive face and shoulders of a simple elegance associated with arms too robust. with neither muscles nor contours. on inspection of that ample bosom. Ingres— that that high and mighty dame has overpowered him by her irresistible ascendancy. but at once the wicked notion flashes across the mind. so that his figures look Hke the most correct of paper-patterns. Ingres may be considered man endowed with lofty qualities. the reader will easily underas a stand that M. His * dominant preoccupations Now in the Louvre ( Wildenstein 265). Sometimes it happens that the eye falls upon charming details. too full of a Raphaelesque opulence. Ingres who has been seeking nature. lifeless manner. inflated in a soft. we are utterly baflied by an egregious leg. such as a Lavater. hoping thus to give more importance to the contour. for generally these more or less plausible exand one that can always be easily traced to his immoderate appetite for style— in one place. but quite devoid of that energy of temperament which constitutes the fatality of genius. or reduces it to the point of invisibility.

Chantilly (Wildenstein 257). And yet. like the wooden horse that captured the be that they are endowed with some magnetic force. solid substance. (Wildenstein 228). which was exhibited at the Exposition Universelle. Ingres has let his taste for the Etruscans be throughout his work. . Titian {The Sistine ChapeP-^). that they are able to drag the car behind them with neither traces nor harness? As for the figure of the emperor himself. And so we see him wandering from archaism to archaism. and destroyed by fire in 1871 (Wildenstein 270). are and his character is somewhat eclectic. like all men who lacking in fatahty. Sym- German primitives (all those Httle things in an anecdotal. is are his taste for the antique His admiration. and Troy?)— can it "Now "Now Louvre (Wildenstein 131). It was completed at the end of 1853. ^ Presumably the Odalisque with Slave. are they made city of of. Musee Conde. antique bric-a-brac and the chequered colouring of Persian and Chinese art (the small Odalisque^^ . but Ingres is often seems to me that to antiquity revealed. in the in the . picture-book style). on the whole. It is above all in the Apotheosis of the Emperor Napoleon^^—the picture that has been lent from the Hotel de Ville— that M. Poussin and the Carracci {Venus and Antiope). Ingres (what. There is a sketch for it at the Musee Carnavalet. Paris ( Wildenstein 271 ) See pi. 1855 and his respect for the School. even the Etruscans never pushed simplification to the lengths of not harnessing their horses to their chariots! But these supernatural horses of M. Cambridge. what the transitory caprices of good taste are to the natural good manners which spring from the dignity and charity of the individual. Raphael phorian). the {St. are forever disputing for his preference. these horses that seem to be of some poHshed. Mass. the Renaissance enamellers (Venus Anadyomene^^) .208 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. 8. great simphfiers as they were. fairly easily bestowed. by the way. I feel bound to say that it gave me no hint of that epic and fatal beauty with which his contemporaries and historians generally endow him. " Painted for the ceiling of the Salon de I'Empereur in the Hotel de Ville. The love and influence of antiquity it make themselves felt M. and is now in the Fogg Art Museum.

an impulse. that 209 it distresses me not to see the outward and legendary characteristics of great men preserved. or rather this equipage. The cardinal feature of an apotheosis ought to be its supernatural feeling. Ingres I may have appeared in the eyes of his fanatical admirers. I beHeve that the faculty which has made M. Ingres what he is—the mighty. abode of all great men. with all due deference to the fanatical amateurs of Style. is inevitably going to smash itself to bits on the surface of the is The globe. I prefer to beHeve that the loftiest talent always reserves certain rights to make mistakes.^^ a picture whose most obvious an inordinate technical pedantry—I do not trust myself to speak of it. His over-passionate admirers will always be what they were— in love to the point of blindness. upon tiie scurrilous attacks of As for his distinction is setting aside his erudition and and almost wanton taste for beauty. he will not grow old. Here. And thanks to that vital energy which he possesses. which. what he is now he has been from the very start. Joan of Arc. and us. . his intolerant To sum up. horses are dragging the chariot earthwards. or rather an immense abuse of that power. the absolute despot—is the power of his will. according to the promises of the good M. as in the Apotheosis. As he has not progressed. an irresistible surge towards the goal of every human aspiration and classic Heaven. Hke a fully-ballasted balloon without gas. agreeing with me in this. the indisputable. ceremonial robes. this apotheosis. there is a total absence of sentiment and supernaturahsm. We look in vain for that noble virgin who. a power of ascent towards loftier regions. can hardly imagine its favourite hero except in his official. Well. was to avenge herself. or in that historic iron-grey cloak.INGRES further. However lacking in sympathy towards M. On the whole. and nothing wiU change in France—not even the eccentric habit Voltaire. and "Now in tlie Louvre ( Wildenstein 273). he will remain the same to the end. faUing— falling with a speed proportionate to its weight. and that the populace. The whole thing. would do nothing to mar a modern apotheosis. But there is a more serious criticism to be made of this work. Delecluze.

Faced with thirty-five pictures by M. to this childish Hke a pair ranged almost all the individuals who go to make up our artistic company.210 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. But without giving our acceptance and vulgar love of antithesis. and not the third. and this is a fact that I shall have more than one opportunity of demonstrating. article of the series. stubborn and unremitting love of is of these pictures the finest?— it is impossible to say. Delacroix. and of imitating the inimitable. this article appeared in Le Pays a week after the introductory article. Which Which of the the most interesting?— one hesitates. But his good. a long drew a cordon round them. Eugene Delacroix and time since popular opinion first Ingres share between them It is the support and the antipathy of the pubHc. we must nevertheless begin by an examination of these two French masters. it seems clearly to have been intended as the second. Here and there one seems to detect instances of progress. the bhse and the thousand fastidious spirits if it who are always looking for something new. He has commanded the respect of poHte society by his ostentatious love of antiquity and the great tradition. A thousand lucky circumstances have combined in the establishment of this formidable renown. To judge by the opening paragraph. or at effect in the events his engaging qualities have produced a lamentable crowd of his imitators. 1855 of taking over from a great artist those odd qualities which can only belong to him. 192. of a is the idea of a wellart. The eccentric. m EUGENE DELACROIX^ MM. We are however retaining the order were first in which the three articles printed together in Curiosites esthetiques. but if some more recent pictures show that certain important quahties ^As has been pointed out in a footnote on p. . since around and below them are grouped and of wrestlers. even has a bitter taste— all all these he has pleased by his oddness. the first idea to take possession of the spectator filled fife.

Sans quitter un instant leur pose solennelle. Leur existence etrange lis du reve. with Gautier's poem and the sentence wliich rounds it off. s'en vont. Ces hommes-la Ne II L'orage ou donnez qu'un jour ou donnez-leur cent le repos. Dieu semble les produire afin de se prouver. a destiny blessed by nature and consummated by the most admirable power of will. ccEurs de flamme. Avec Toeil immobile et le maintien des dieux. The following paragraph. . In^ the presence of a destiny so nobly and so happily fulfilled. at times more curious. pour les petrir. ceaselessly echoing in my mind: extreme limits. la palette ou le glaive: meneront a bout leurs destins eclatants. I'empriente de son pouce Sur leurs fronts rayonnant de la gloire des cieux. At times perhaps he has been more subtle. from his very youth (Dante and Virgil dates from 1822) M. Et Tardente aureole en gerbes d'or y pousse. Et souvent passe un siecle a les parachever. prend. executeront votre plan ideal. II II met. Delacroix has possessed greatness.EUGENE DELACROIX have been pushed to their 211 humbling from his earhest productions. une argile plus douce. leur est le reel ans. cahnes et radieux. comme un sculpteur. it is for the impartial critic to have to recognize that II nait sous le soleil de nobles creatures Unissant ici-bas tout ce qu'on pent rever. admirables natures. Comme un ^ maitre savant le croquis d'un eleve. Corps de fer. at times more painterly— but he has never ceased to be great. I am conscious of some lines by one of our great poets. were not in the text as printed in 1855.

.^ And could up the vacant spaces of a whole centuiy entirely on his own? Never was an artist more attacked. the spiteful tracts of a smoking-room academy or two. Types tou jours vivants dont on fait des recits. Cinq ou six. See Appendix. the result is before our eyes in its manifest. the scoldings of a few bourgeois salons. dans les siecles prosperes. Among the big pictures. Delacroix has practised every genre. sous I'arceau triomphal. tout au plus. and thus of making us reconsider. that young man's pic- which was a revolution in itself. with depth and intimate feehng— and v^th what a loving sensitivity has he painted them! He has glorified the walls of our palaces: he has filled our museums with tory of painting. enormous compositions. M. immense and blazing ti-uth. Dont votre esprit en songe arrondissait la voute. or the pedantry of dominoplayers? Probatum est. and in which one (the upturned male torso) was for long falsely attributed to Gericault. more held up to ridicule. Delacroix fill and for all. This year he has most rightfully availed himself of the opportunity of showing a fairly considerable portion of his life's work. But what care we for the hesitations of governments (I speak of some years ago). The collection has been most discerningly assembled. so to speak. the documents of the case.212 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE.'^ mind and his talent. Now in the Louvre. or more thwarted. we may perhaps be allowed to hesitate between the Justice of ^ * From La ComSdie de la Mort ( 1838). ceux-la chaque peuple en compte cinq ou six. so as to provide us with a set of varied and decisive samples of his We ture figure start with Dante and Virgil. his imagination and his learning have ranged over every inch of the terrifilled He has painted charming httle pictures. the matter has been settled once M. 1855 Vos desirs inconnus. De Theophile Gautier not calls this a 'Compensation. Passent assis en croupe au dos de leur cheval.

no one and a rhetorical truth of gesture life! has excelled like Delacroix in fusing a mysterious unity of drama and reverie.EUGENE DELACROIX saders. 'Alphonse art-critic. repro. as in the aftermath of a great event. 7. the ceremonial splendour of the clothes. stretches back into the distance with a miraculous truth. Burnt in 1871. and as if in any case a painter had not a perfect right to do them that way I he wishedl But quite apart from its subject-matter. London. ' ' Kan novelist. What a sky. And everywhere the fluttering and waving of flags. and what a seal All is tumult and tranquillity. the tumult of arms. 12. . the Bishop of Liege. so airy. what makes the second picture so deeply moving is its tempestuous and gloomy harmony. Karr^ and his little jokes about pink horses— as if some horses were not slightly pink. pi. For after Shakespeare. ^^ that admirable transla^ Now Now in tlie Rouen Museum. Journal. ® Church of Saint-Paul-Saint-Louis. sketch repro. unfurling and snapping their bright folds in the transparent atmosphere Everywhere the restless.'^ 213 Trajan^ and the Taking of Constantinople by the CruThe former is such a marvellously luminous pic- ture. (1808-90). 27. repro. and triumphs: the Doge Marino Faliero'^ (Salon it is curious to note that Justinian draping his laws^ and the Christ in the Garden of Olives^ are of the same year) . stirif 1 ring crowd. pi. Journal. will renew acquaintance with all those pic- tures of stormy memory which were in themselves revolts. ^°With the Marlborough Gallery. Journal. great occasions of tially amid the These two pictures are of an essenShakespearean beauty. journalist and occasional pi. The city. The public struggles of 1827. so full of tumult and splendour! How handsome the Emperor how turbulent the crowd as it twists round the columns or moves along with the processionl how dramatic the weeping widowl This is the picture that was immortalized some years ago by the egregious M. ranged behind the Crusaders who have just passed through it. in the Wallace Collection.

1855 Walter Scott. 67.. has sho\vn us a deHcate and palHd Hamlet. Paul Museum. have heard so much fun made of the ugliness of Delacroix's women— though without being able to understand vation to " ^ " ^^ Now Now From in the Louvre. Minnesota. in the St. ^'^ with her strange. feminine hands. a refined.214 tion of THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. the Terza Rima in Gautier's Comedie de la mort. England. " 1845 Salon: see p.^^ the Convulsionaries of But how is one to define that charming such as the Hamlet in the graveyard scene. driving his restlessness to the pitch of violent Hamlet. On the subject of the Romeo and Juliet I have an obserfrenzy. Private collection.^^ the Jewish Wedding. class of picture. unhappy. a Hamlet with white. soft and somewhat irresolute nature. ^"The actor Philibert Rouviere had played the part of Hamlet at the Theatre Historique. but Delacroix. the Mas- sacre at Chios. bustle and light.'^'^ the Tasso in Prison. There you have the romantic strangeness of the great tragedian.^^ this is cently. in Dumas and Meurice's \'ersion of the play. the eye can no longer Tangier. and an almost colourless eye.A. Manet's L'Acteur Tragique represents Rouviere as Hamlet. 4 above.^'^ the Prisoner of Chillon. not the Hamlet which Rouviere^^ showed us reand with such brilliant success— the sour.^^ etc. escape them. . mysterious smile. " See pi. all crowd. U. Baudelaire published an enthusiastic article on Rouviere in 1855 (reprinted in L'Art Romantique).S. and the mind is for ever in their thrall? Et But le tableau quitte nous tourmente et nous suit. Here too is the famous upturned head of the Magdalen. and so supernaturally beautiful that you cannot tell whether she has been transfigured by death or beautified by the spasms of divine love.^^ and the Farewell of Romeo and Juliet. I make which I beheve to be of no Httle importance. more faithful perhaps to his text. December 1847. See Appendix.^'^ which are so deeply moving and attractive that once it has bathed in their httle worlds of melancholy. etc.

grave of secrecy. Their pallor is like a revelation of their Whether they owe their distinction to their gestures are languid or violent. You will remember how. Victor Hugo. He went so far as to liken Delacroix's But M. 33. who are sometimes historical women (like the Cleopatra^^ looking at the asp). he deplored the fact I fun— that that the man who the eyes of the public should in respect of beauty. I understand. by M. in the high summer of Romanticism. abundant women. And Sardanapalus himself was as beautiful as a woman. sketch repro. opulent. and in spite of everything. even Blessed Virgins or Magdalens— these I would be incHned to caU Vomen in intimacy'. for there ful women. Journal. Victor Hugo is a great sculptural closed to spirituality. repro. But always. these the fascination of crime or to the odour of sanctity. these are dis- tinguished. in the ceiling of the Galerie d'Apollon^^). Their eyes seem heavy with some painful secret which cannot be buried in the this year.EUGENE DELACROIX that kind of 215 welcome the opportunity of protesting against this misguided notion. Switzerland. " In the Louvre. Generally speaking. and whether women. or the strange. seen from behind. robust. have in their eyes the leaden hues of fever. pi. poet whose eye is am sorry that the Sardanapalus^^ has not reappeared you would have seen some very beautiand shining and pink— to the best of my recollection. and if I am to put the whole thing in a nutshell. of genre—Marguerites. are of necessity beautiful (for example the recumbent nymph. I would say that M. bright internal struggles. Those of the first class. essentially distinguished women. abnormal sparkle of their malady— and in their glance the intensity of a supernatural vision. pi. Ophelias. . who present no difficulties to the understanding and are often mythological. Dela^ Now in the Louvre. ^ In a private collection. 8. Delacroix's women may be divided into two classes. They are rich. but are more often women of fancy. enjoyed a parallel glory to his own in commit such monstrous errors women I to frogs. But the others. and are endowed with a wonderful transparency of flesh and superb heads of hair. Journal. sick at heart or in mind. which was shared.

pi. Further. v^th their slightly their the ribs. These different paintings serve to demonstrate the prodigious sureness which the master has achieved. Delacroix's colour thinks for objects itself.^. tones phenomenon results from the colourist's special power. First of all it is to be noted— to and this is very important—that even at a distance too great for the spectator to be able to analyse or even compre- hend its subject-matter. ^ In a private collection. ** Journal. painter's brain. repro. from the perfect concord of his and from the harmony.the Lion Hunt^^ and a Head of an Old Woman^'^ (a portrait by M. If the reader will pardon me a stratagem of language in order to express an idea of some subtlety. magician or a hypnotist. these wonderful chords of colour often give one ideas of melody the impression that one takes and harmony. such are the Foscari. which is pre-established in the between colour and subject-matter. in the divine or the infernal terpretation of the word. of these paintings are Some new and unknown to the Arab Family. modern woman her heroic manifestation. above all. ^ Now in the Bordeaux Museum. independently of the which it clothes. 55. and away from his pictures is ^ Now at the Musee Cond6. joyful or by Delacroix will already have produced a the soul. can project This curious thought at a distance. of all artists the best equipped to in in- and. 1855 croix seems to express me to be modem woman. Delacroix is a rarity). that air of reverie (for fulness of their breasts). These women even have the all physical beauty of today. Two the soul through the channel of the eyes! The minute and careful examination of these pictures can first only reinforce certain irrefutable truths suggested by a rapid and generalized glance. narrow broad hips and their charming limbs. In a private collection. The Lion Hunt is a veritable explosion of colour (the word is intended in its good sense) Never can colours more beautiful or more intense have penetrated to public.2l6 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE. France. . it seems to me that M.^^ the . Paris. Chantilly. like a It melancholy impression upon its almost seems as though this kind of painting. a picture rich.

which has been so absurdly and so banally criticized. as it 21/ were.^^ Lac de sang [lake of blood]—the colour red. in which paralleHsm is always vague and sinuous. les fanfares et Weber [fanfares. a musical one.ideas of romantic music awakened by the harmonies of his colour. VI). ciel chagrin. sous un Passent bois de sapins toujours vert.EUGENE DELACROIX often. it has at least the enormous merit of being a constant and effective protest against the barbarous invasion tragic. and that nature presents us with an infinite series of curved. alive and in motion? that simplification in drawing is a monstrosity. Delacroix admirably satisfies all these conditions. that M. and that even though his drawing may admit of occasional weaknesses or excesses. Of Delacroix's drawing. which was not published until 1857. systematic line whose present ravages in painting and in sculpture are already of the straight fine-that enormous? Another very great and far-reaching quality of M. . the complementary of red. Ombrage par un Ou. des fanfares ^tranges comme un soupir etouffe de Weber. A^^ poet has attempted these subtle sensations in their singularity: to express some lines whose sincerity must excuse Delacroix. Dela- ^ The passage from this sentence down to the end of the para- graph was not in the text as printed in 1855. Hke tragedy in the world of the theatre. what am I to say. stormy backgrounds of his pictures. hante des mauvais anges. and concavities and convexities correspond with and pursue one another? and. ^From Les Phares (Les Fleurs du Mai. following an impeccable law of generation. lac de sang. hante des mauvais anges [haunted by bad angels]— supematuralism. except that it is one of those elementary truths which are completely misunderstood? What am I to say. and Weber]. un hois toujours vert [an ever-green wood]—the colour green. cruel. receding and crooked Hues. un ciel chagrin [a sullen sky]—the turbulent. imprisoning a form Hke a strait-jacket? that drawing should be like nature. last of all. except that a good drawing is not a hard. despotic and rigid line.

a more despotic meaning. Dante. a more wilful. of the poets. when sounds chime like music. Byron. Scott and Shakespeare.. Delacroix stand with Posterity? what will that redresser of wrongs have to say of him? He has now reached a point in his career at which it is already easy to give the answer without finding too many to contradict one. 1855 and one which makes him the painter beloved that he is essentially literary. rather is it by means of the total effect. like Veronese an enchanted sense of colour. his art the great literatures of the world. Edgar Poe has it somewhere^^ that the effect of opium upon the senses is to invest the whole of nature with a supernatural intensity of interest. it reveals what Hes beyond nature. a quality indefinable but itself defining the melancholy and miraculous ^ In A Tale of the Ragged Mountains. a subtler and a deeper order than the art of the modem painters. by a trifle or a trick of the brush that M. but that he also had a quality all his own. when the firmament of a more transparent blue plunges headlong into an abyss more infinite. Delacroix's painting seems to me to translate those fine days of the soul. How will M. etc. but it has the power of revealing ideas of a loftier. Without having recourse to opium. who has not known those moments—veritable feast-days of the brainwhen the senses are keener and sensations more ringing. Ariosto. which gives to every object a deeper. that like Rembrandt he had a sense of intimacy and a profoundly magical quality. and scents tell of whole worlds of ideas? Very well then. Delacroix achieves this prodigious result. and splendour is its special privilege. his subject and his drawing. and been the companion of. not only has translated. and the dramatic gesticulation of his figures. like Rubens and Lebrun a feeling for decoration and combination. And rest assured that it is never by means of a mere feint. Posterity will say that he was a imique meetingplace of the most astonishing faculties. when colours speak. the profound and majority of perfect harmony between his colour. Like nature apprehended through extra-sensitive nerves. M. . Not only has ranged— and successfully ranged— over the field of is it croix's talent. It is invested with intensity. Like us.2l8 THE EXPOSITION UNIVERSELLE.

EUGENE DELACROIX the passion of his SIQ age— something quite new. without prece- and probably without a successor— a link so precious that it could in no wise be replaced. which has artist. a imique without ancestry. made him dent. and too great a gap would be blasted in the chain of history. . and that by destroying it—if such a thing were possible— a whole world of ideas and sensations would be destroyed.

between 10th June and 20th July 1859. you said. not because your programme accords (as it does) with my own conception of that tiresome kind of article called a 'Salon'. genius. to provoke floods of praise— a garrulous admiration— or to necessitate a whole series of new categories in the language of criticism. Certainly I should have been more seriously embarrassed if I had found myself lost in a forest of originahty. My M— so vigorous and of a scent so varied as to command irre- pressible wonder. suddenly modified. something like the account of a rapid philosophical walk through the galleries/ Very well. you shall have your wish. a few days later he admitted (also to Nadar) that he had been . but simply because. above all in the present instance. The name of the editor of the Remie Frangaise was Jean Morel. In a letter to Nadar of 14th May. there is no other possible way. and rejuvenated. if banality in the painter ^Published in four instalments. Baudelaire claimed tliat he was writing this Salon without having seen it. that a few pages will doubtless be suflBcient to develop them. purified. so traditional. had put forth flowers . The Salon opened on 15th April at the Palais des Champs-Elysees.THE SALON OF 1859 LETTERS TO THE EDITOR OF THE REVUE FRANCAISE" THE MODERN ARTIST dear when you did me the honour of asking for an analysis of the Salon. 'Be brief. if the modern French temperament. but a general impression. Do not be surprised. nor because your method is easier than the other—it is not. do not write a catalogue. for brevity always demands more eflFort than diffuseness. No explosions. so classic an order. But there is nothing of all that. not a single unknown this The thoughts suggested by the sight of Salon are of so simple. then. fortunately (for me).

'^ that mixture of Universelle of 1855. than the com- monplace? Before I begin. with Hook. had The Order of Release. Hook had one Venetian painting. the commonplace you will be no whit the loser. naif my acquaintance with Leslie. how- We us. The Return of the Dove to the Ark. I greatest to the Parisian public several of those charming artists of whom for- had been for ward with the it was thus looking pleasure to re-estabHshing rich.^ who knows how to flood his Venetian Chalon. J. The word Tiumourist' is Baudelaire's own. 11 water-colours. me to express a regret. Afternoon and Hall. article article ^The Exposition on that tion of writing exhibition. with Millais.THE MODERN ARTIST should have given Besides. Baudelaire At the end of his first had announced his inten- an on the contemporary English school (see pp. believe will be but seldom expressed. and Claudio and Isabella. and Ophelia. Chalon had A Summers Day: Morning. with the two Hunts. 201-2). with the bold compositions of Machse. . allow that ever. and the other the passionate and less self-willed creator of Pre- Raphaelitism. and Watteau. of a nature more positively exciting. Hunt had and Ordeal by Touch. ® J. with Grant.* the one a stubborn naturalist. 'J. one of the most emphatic expressions of the British mind. 'Leslie's pictures at the Exposition Universelle Uncle Toby and the Widow W adman ( now in the Victoria had included and Albert Museum) and Sancho Panza and the Duchess (National Gallery). C. that natural heir of Reynolds. Strayed Sheep (Tate Gallery). for the exhibition in the Avenue Montaigne^ has already introduced too long ignorant. chronicler of charming fetes champitres in great Italian parks.^ that and noble hu- mourist.^ no impetuous than sure of himself. ^ Maclise's two exhibits were Merry Christmas in the Barons *W.^ that poet of meticulous detail. with Claude J. (I rise to 221 in your writer. we should have some guests to who are not exactly unknown to which I had been told receive— guests. ' Millais Evening. for is there anything am delighted to record that you share my opinion in this)—is there anything in the world more charming. H. more fruitful. and Holman Hunt had The Light of the World.

® his who mind and embroiders graceful pantheistic chaos with the patience of another age. dreams with a magic brings back Fuseli to with that strange Paton. From Adolphe Lance's Compte-rendu of the architectural exhibits at the exhibition (pp. I met on the staircase one of the most subtle " and best-regarded of our critics. W. you splendours of the Orient. colossal A special place had even been set aside for these devotees of the imagination and of exotic colour. patriotism does not play an absolutely tyrannical role therein. See F. then the this time at although so small—we shall not gaze least. is the Visionary architect' in question. for these favourites of the fantastic muse. magical visions of freshness. it would give me immense pleasure to adopt a lyrical tone in speaking of the artists of my own country. allowing gigantic three- masters in limbs. Were you so badly received first time. ( and to my first Noel Paton had Oberon and Titania National Gallery of Scotland). intimate gHmpses of the home.222 THE SALON OF 1859 light. and \vith that other astonishing artist visionary architect. The first time that I set foot in the Salon. shortly to be published in tiie Revue de litterature comparee. you charming. reflected in the poetic mirror of the English mind. for reasons I which do not know and whose explanation cannot. Leakey's 'Baudelaire et Kendall'. my dear we shaU content ourselves with France. a on paper cities whose bridges have elephants for supports. however Httle M— . you eager representatives of the imagi- nation and of the most precious powers of the soul? and do you consider us unworthy of understanding you? And so.^^ full sail to pass between their countless. where the greater part of paragraph also occurs. you tragic passions— gesticulations a la Kean or Macready. but alas. the names of Cockerell or Kendall are suggested here. E. you Scottish verdures. 56 ff. Kendall. it is quite clear that H. my hopes were disappointed. find a place in your journal. upon you. receding depths in water-colours as vast as stage-decorations. this In Baudelaire's article on Gautier. And believe me. with Cattermole. and we have some humiliating admissions to make.). I think. jun. the history-painter in water-colour. who builds whose name escapes me. but unhappily. practised a critic's mind may be. And so farewell. of necessity. ^° .

THE MODERN ARTIST replied. ) I therefore asked myself the following questions: What was he. is equivalent response. I am not alone in being oppressed by these bitter reflections. puerility. It cannot be doubted that at all times mediocrity has dominated. so I much carefully-laboured much cleverly-constructed stupidity and falseness. so my eyes for some time over so many suc- cessfully-completed platitudes. how much money has been showered upon men without soul and without education! I am certainly far from advocating the introduction . incuriosity and the leaden calm of fatuity have taken the place of ardour. How many honours. the artist today. knowledge of the past. no less in the fine arts than in litera- and that for the moment nothing gives us reason to any spiritual flowering as abundant as that of the Restoration. and has been for many years. that its encumbrance should have turned into an absolute tri- umph—it is this fact that is as true as it is distressing. nothing but a spoiled child. An exhibition which contains nmnerous works by Delacroix. nobility and turbulent ambition. A scandalous favoritism sometimes demands an ture. I 223 question—to the natural question that I put to him—he have seldom seen so dismal a Salon/ He was both right and wrong. After having passed drivel. then—the artist of former times (Lebrun or David. at the end of these discouraging reflections. Despite his lack of merit. Penguilly. that terrible and eternal questionmark inevitably reared its head. (And beheve me. cannot be dismal. for example)? Lebrun was all erudition. was led by the natural course of my reflections to consider the artist in times past and to place him face to face with the artist of the present: and then. as it always does. Tlat. I saw that he was in the right. I wiU prove it to you in good time. my dear M— one must not shrink from being too stem. imagination. but that it should be more than ever on the throne. but from the point of view of a general inspection. It would seem that httleness. and David. mediocre. and love of grandeur. that colossus slandered by pigmies— did not he also embody love of the past and love of grandeur combined with erudition? But what of the artist today— that ancient brother to the poet? To answer that question properly. hope for . Fromentin.

a suggestive remark? If such a remark has been throv^n out. and while good poets and vigorous historians make their Hving with extreme difficulty. I beg and implore you to tell me in I enthusiasm. once legitimate. When art. which is an admirable mixture of philosophical solidity. Guerin. and yet to quote an example. never. Hke a hunter.224 into THE SALON OF 1859 an art of means which are alien to it. I a singer or a dancer has reached the summit am not one of those who envy her the fortune which . of witty lightness and of blazing cannot think of any other artist who is worthy to converse with a philosopher or a poet. Delacroix and Bonington. who is always agreeable in the way that books are agreeable. I think. Preault has a charming talent. from his predecessors. a sailor or a taxidermist. Girodet. brilliant. but by an artist. in what social or intimate gathering you have heard a single witty remark uttered by a spoiled child— a. Daumier is gifted with a radiant good sense which colours all his conversation. Apart from them. an instinctive taste which hurls him upon the beautiful like a hunting animal upon its natural prey. stiU sheds its charitable Hght upon his sorry person. to The spoiled child has inherited privileges. It is unnecessaiy. the besotted business-man pays magnificently for the indecent child. but by someone of an outlandish profession. or acute remark. Ricard. to speak of the conversation of Eugene Delacroix. profound. in spite of the dazzle and elusiveness of his talk. what salon. a spoiled child. The endiusiasm which greeted David. make one ponder or dream— in short. and graceful even when he is dull and pompous. little fooleries of the spoiled if Please do not misunderstand me. Gros. in what tavern. But apart from these. I should not complain. never fails to let one see that he knows. you will hardly find anything but spoiled children. this goodwill of her were bestowed upon men of merit. it may not indeed have been by a politician or a philosopher. and has compared a great deal. I cannot prevent myself from feeling sympathetic towards an artist such as Chenavard. What do I care that he is the butt of every dauber's jokes? At least with him I am sure that I can have a conversation about Virgil or about Plato.

and the imagination which attempts to do without it is insane. merits. but she has sucthose who have been does as she has said. rather. of technique— such. compared with today's toy-makers. so that the may be allowed to bum with its full briUiance. who. It was. A concierge's possesses daughter says to herself: 1 shall go to the Conservatoire. these things are both above and below the modern artist. the practically-invisible figures of Meissonier fetched ten or twenty times as passed. and wisdom says also: He who no more than the technical skill is but a beast. are the principal reasons for degradation. But for all their simpHcity.THE MODERN ARTIST I should 22$ she has gained by the labours and the risks of every day. if you remember. on one of those ill-omened days when the terrified public heard him speaking Latin: pecudesque locutae! No. I am not as unjust as all that. I shall declaim the verses of Corneille until I am classed above declaiming them for years. disdain of the great. difficulties the better will be the technique needed to in its adventures and to overcome the accompany which it it avidly courts. but it is a good thing to raise the voice and to cry shame on contemporary Girardin. . this is a veritable giant Discredit of the imagination. I shall make my debut at the Comedie Frangaise. at the same time that a ravishing picture by Delacroix had difficulty in finding a buyer at 1000 francs. had the misfortune of introducing is and popularizing the taste for Uttleness. She ^The journalist and politician Girardin was a particular hSte noire of Baudelaire's. And the better one's technique. and very classically boring and ignorant. and M. the counsel of wisdom. lovetoo fine a I word— exclusive practice. be afraid of falHng into the vice of the late memory. the less virtue of it should one imagination This is make a and display it. Meissonier. we have fallen in spite of all his much. the artist's beheve. no. But those happy times have even lower.!! of sophistical folly when. who one day rebuked Theophile Gautier for rating his imagination at a much higher value than the services of a sous-prefet. The more imagination one has.' And she is very classically monotonous.

and behind us my daughters passing to and fro. I beg you not to forget the puffs of smoke from my pipe. better and better stopping up his soul and above all reading nothing. which at any rate would have been able to open up for him a career of greater glory. He paints on and on. I want you to paint my portrait. That is where we were all married. my father. I shall be classical. preparing the family supper. of gravies. of glazes. others. are bringing back waggons laden with hay. . and in this way each pursues his dream of greatness. that is to say. but like Troy on. me you wdll paint my wife with her distaff. I should like the spectator to hear the of the of satisfaction which I enjoy at this moment of the day. not even The Perfect Cook. the neo-classic landscape-painter. of stews (I speak of painting). You will show me sitting at the front door of my farm-house. The imitator of the imitator finds his own imitators. By the avenue to the left come those of my in the great arm-chair which I inherited from Beside sons who are returning from the fields after having herded the cattle to their byres. While I am watch- ing this scene. the modern painter. What is reading and contemplation of the past? Waste of time. of scumbles. It is important that you should paint the air setting sun. . . And the spoiled child.-H. he stops up his soul and continues to paint. which are shot through by the rays of the sound Angelus which is ringing from the nearby churchtower. the spoiled child strikes proud attitudes and repeats with more conviction than ever that nothing else is necessary. Valenciennes. "Victor Bertin. When he is thoroughly master of the art of sauces. of patinas.226 THE SALON OF 1859 ceeded in what was very easy. with my grandsons. both the fathers and the sons. a pupil of P. not Hke Bertin^^ (for the classical changes its place and its name). in winning by her patience the privileges of a societaire.' And he does as he has said. if less profit. . says to himself: 'What is imagination? A danger and a toil. There was once a German peasant who went to a painter and said to him: 'Sir. until at last he becomes like the artist of the moment and by his stupidity and his skill he earns the acclaim and the money of the public. for example.

Sometimes even—but always in France— this vice infects men who are not altogether devoid of talent and who debase it in this way with an adulterous mixture. Seigneurgens. it would be the through the titles easiest thing in the world. and what sugar. the false or trick title. two titles of pictures.THE MODERN PUBLIC AND PHOTOGRAPHY when and at 22/ one and the same time riches increased I contemplate my family by the labours of a day!'^^ Three cheers for that peasant Without for a moment suspecting it. he imderstood painting. the passage is ^ quoted in Crepet's edition of Curiosites esthetiques (p. merely by all flicking catalogue and making an extract of the ridiculous and preposterous subjects which are intended to attract our eyes. Love of his profession had heightened his imagination. By Ernest . 'How long shall I be with you? how long shall I suffer you?* This generation. both artists and public. of the type of 'Brutus. the profound and philosophical title. the sentimental title (which lacks only an exclamation-mark). 489). in fact. Great Heavens! I will instance not seen. has so little faith in painting that it spends its time in seeking to disguise it. There's the famous Gallic wit for youl To seek to astonish by means which are alien to the art in question is the great standby of men who are not natural painters. said Our Lord. the punning title. But which of our fashionable painters would be worthy of executing this portrait? Which of them can claim that his imagination has reached 1 my such a level? n THE MODERN PUBLIC AND PHOTOGRAPHY My dear M— . which however I have The first is Amour et Gibelotte!^ Doesn't that " The above paragraph seems to be an imitation and development of a passage in Diderot's Essai sur la peinture. Idche Cesar!' 'O faithless generation!'. to wrap it up in sugar pills like an unpleasant medicine. I could parade before your eyes the comic title (in the manner of the vaudevillistes) . if I had time to divert you.

communion and assisting at the petit lever of Louis XIV. What is even more deplorable is that the picture may perhaps be a good one. * By Emile Hebert. in which a wife's infidelity occasions a husband's misanthropy.228 THE SALON OF 1859 immediately whet the appetite of your curiosity? 'Love and Rabbit-stew!' Let me try and make an intimate combination of these two ideas. See pp. the allegory would be really too obscure. or perhaps a retired veteran and a waif in some dusty bower? I really ought to have seen the picture I— Next we have Monarchique. and the political utterances of the leader of into a dauber's squibs). Chateaubriand but the most noble peal of bells can become means of caricature. ^By Joseph Gouezou. I can hardly suppose that the painter's imagination can have gone so far as to fit a quiver. the crusader style. a labourer and a working-girl. Or could it be a warrior tattooed with fleurs de lys and devotional images? But what is the good of character doing three things at his making perplexing ourselves further? Let us simply say that this is a false and sterile method of striking wonder. and when I wanted to know the subject I re-read the catalogue four times—but to no availl At last you kindly informed me that it was called Toujours et Jamais. Did I not catch sight of an excellent little group of sculpture whose number I had unfortunately not noted. which leads to repentance and a happy ending. the idea of love and the idea of a rabbit skinned and made into a a stew. 299-300 below. however odd this may seem. I ^ beg your forgiveness for having amused myself a little The French translation of Kotzebue's play Menschenhass und Reue (1789). This picture can only represent an empire can be turned one once—fighting in battle. are they young or old. catholique et soldat!^ Here is one in the noble. Now you will ask. . I imagine rather that the title has been invented upon the recipe of Misanthropie et Repentir? The true title would thus be Lovers Eating a Rabbit-Stew. a pair of wings and an eye-bandage upon the corpse of a domestic animal."^ I felt truly sorry to see a man of real talent uselessly cultivating the art of the rebus. like Itineraire 1 de Paris d Jerusalem (forgive me. And the same with Amour et Gibelotte.

she demands the to have her needs satisfied is no less true. oiu: public looks only for Truth. in is see nothing but Beauty (I mean and you can rally artists. that. once infected. almost The exclusive taste for the True (so noble a thing when it is limited to its and stifles the taste for the Beautiful. For us the natural painter. moralists. is alone. They are two correlative terms which act upon one another with an equal power. not natuphilosophers perhaps. Biard. all at you like. and at the miraculous skill— of everyday diffusion of the common nm of something which can be acquired by patience like the natural poet. and if the eyes of GiuHo Romano. Biard is eternal and omnipresent. if the Venice of Veronese and Bassano was aflElicted by these pictorial anagrams. of Michelangelo. And so let us marvel at the momentum with which we plunge into the track of progress (by progress I mean the progressive domination of matter). To of sum up in a style of paradox. analytically. synthetically. I regard these horrors as a special grace bestowed upon friends who are the French nation. The people are not noisseurs of instructive anecdotes. if M. proper applications) oppresses Where one should in a beautiful painting. It is true that her artists infect her with the taste for them. and of Bandinelli were alarmed by similar monstrosities. I will ask you and those my more learned than I in the history of art. if Appartement a Louer^ and other far-fetched conceptions have appeared in all ages. the public pays him back in kind. easily guess what my mind). if the taste for the asinine and the taste for the witty (which is really the same thing) have always existed. a monster. one of the great successes of the 1844 Salon. whatever never spontaneously immediately. but They feel. for if artist makes the public stupid. like God.-A. in order to provoke the same popular enthusiasm. I ask. or rather they judge. if you look carefully you will find that it contains a deplorable symptom. artists. was speaking just now who seek to astonish By F. I do not beHeve so. I ^ in stages. in a word.THE MODERN PUBLIC AND PHOTOGRAPHY frivolous the matter 229 while in the maimer of the lighter journals. engineers. Other more fortunate peoples feel of artists once. But however may seem to you. conartists. .

to stupefy by means art.' From that moment our squalid society rushed. they try to strike. to gaze at its trivial image on a scrap of metal. to surprise. Narcissus to a man. Now our public. is to know by what processes you wish to create or to feel wonder. which is singularly incapable of feeling the happiness of dreaming or of marvelling (a sign of its meanness of soul). Strange abominatee of exactitude that we mad foolsl). and its obedient artists bow it to its taste. then. an extraordinary fanaticism took possession of all these new sun-worsliippers. THE SALON OF 1859 The desire to astonish is and to be astonished 'it is very proper. a new industry arose which contributed not a little to confirm stupidity in its faith and to ruin whatever might remain of the divine in the French mind.' us a result identical to Nature would be the absolute of A revengeful God has titude.230 the public. but also is a happiness to dream'. In matters of painting and sculpture. and cannot be other than. .^ insist that I confer noisseur of the fine The whole question. wishes to be made to wonder by means which are alien to art. of unworthy tricks. A madness. and I beheve only in Nature (there are good reasons for that). the exact reproduction of Nature (a timid and dissident sect would wish to exclude the more repellent objects of nature. the present-day Credo of the sophisticated. Daguerre was And now the faithful says to himself: 'Since photography gives us every guaranthat. such as skeletons or chamber-pots). It a happiness to wonder'. because they know that it is incapable of ecstasy in front of the natural devices of true During this lamentable period. is this: 1 believe in Nature. it would be absurd to suppose that what is wonderful is always beautiful. Thus an industry that could give art. the could desire (they really believe then photography and Art are the same thing. if you upon you the title of artist or of conarts. I believe that Art is. given ear to the prayers of this mulhis Messiah. Because the Beautiful is always wonderful. Morella. above all in France (and I do not think that anyone at all would dare to state the contrary). ' Quoted from Poe. The idolatrous mob demanded an ideal worthy of itself and appropriate to its nature— that is perfectly understood.

man than the love of sHp so fine an opportunity of selfsatisfaction. as though they were the attic-windows of the infinite.' said Cazotte. p. in the absolute success of such a brutish conspiracy. in which. The love of pornography. she repHed. this universal infatuation bore not only the mark of a blindness. the world was infatuated with them. Grepet. A Httle later a thousand hungry eyes were bending over the peep-holes of the stereoscope. an imbecility. a woman of high society. but I am convinced that the ill-applied devel^ The first I.'' As the photographic industry was the refuge of every would-be painter.THE MODERN PUBLIC AND PHOTOGRAPHY 23I tions took form. got up like butchers and laundry-maids in a carnival. And do not imagine that it was only children on their way back from school who took pleasure in these follies. thus committing a double sacri- and the same time the divine art and the noble art of the actor. 490). 'Give them to me! Nodiing is too strong for me. but who will believe me? 'You can see that they are great ladies.' I swear that I heard that. which is no less insulting at one of painting and deep-rooted in the natural heart of himself.' said Alexandre Dumas. I was once to let was not present when some friends were discreetly concealing some such pictures from a beautiful woman. not of mine— they were taking upon themselves some feeHng of delicacy in her presence. or at least I do not wish to beheve. as in all others. remark is taken from Dumas' play La Tour de Nesle (Act sc. every painter too ill-endowed or too lazy to complete his studies. the second from Gerard de Nerval's preface to Gazette's Le Viable amoureux. I do not believe. Some democratic method painting lege writer ought to have seen here a cheap of disseminating a loathing for history and for among the people. and by begging these heroes to be so kind as to hold their chance grimaces for the time necessary for the performance. but had also the air of a vengeance. ed. but 'No'. one finds both fools and knaves. 'There are some still greater 1. . The somewhat complicated point of the joke is explained by Grepet in his note on this passage {CuriositSs. By bringing together a group of male and female clowns. the operator flattered himself that he was reproducing tragic or elegant scenes from ancient history. 9).

rotund stomach. it will soon have supplanted or corrupted it altogether. have contributed much to the impoverishment of the French artistic genius. spew out all the undigested sophisms with which recent philosophy has stu£Fed it from top to bottom. has become art's most mortal enemy. prints and manuscripts which time devouring. then. Hke all other purely material developments of progress. Let is it rescue from oblivion those tum- bling ruins. and when they meet upon the same road. But if it be allowed to encroach upon the domain of the impalpable and the imaginary. and what true connoisseur. upon anything whose value depends solely upon the addition of something of a man's soul. precious things whose form is dissolving and which demand a place in the archives of our memory—it win be thanked and applauded. by invading the territories of art. belch forth all the rumbling wind of its true duty. In vain may our modem its Fatuity roar. has ever confused art with industry?' I . like printing or shorthand. and that the confusion of their several functions prevents any of them from being properly fulfilled. in short. which has neither created nor supplemented hterature. What man worthy of the name of artist. which is to be the servant and arts—but the very humble servant. 'The disease which you have just been diagnosing is a disease of imbeciles. It is time. then it v^ll be so much the worse for us I know very well that some people v^dll retort.23^ THE SALON OF 1859 opments of photography. If photography is allowed to supplement art in some of its functions. thanks to the stupidity of the multitude which is its natural ally. Let it hasten to enrich the tourist's album and restore to his eye the precision which his memory may lack. let it adorn the naturalist's library. let it even provide informa- for it to return to of the sciences tion to corroborate the astronomer's hypotheses. and enlarge microscopic animals. it is nonetheless obvious that this industry. let it be the secretary and clerk of whoever needs an absolute factual exactitude in his profession—up to that point noth- ing could be better. Poetry and progress are like two ambitious men who hate one another with an instinctive hatred. which is already so scarce. one of them has to give place. those books.

will not in the course of time have singularly diminished its faculties of judging and of feeling what are among the most ethereal and immaterial aspects of creation? in THE QUEEN OF THE FACULTIES In recent years we have heard it said in a thousand different ways. the facts. It terrible witnesses. and yet I will in the contagion of them in my turn if they believe good and evil. a man of imagination would have had the right to reply: 1 consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists. and in the involuntary. But I ask youl does the painter still know is this happiness? Could you find an honest observer to declare that the invasion of photography and the great industrial madness of our times have no part at all in this deplorable result? Are we to suppose that a people whose eyes are growing used to considering the results of a material science as though they were the products of the beautiful. and it used to be a glory to express what one dreamt. and that the public should react upon the artist. Nature is ugly.' And yet it would certainly . those the individual to the mass. 'Copy nature.' And this doctrine (the enemy of art) was alleged to apply not only to painting but to all the arts. only copy nature. each day the painter becomes more and more given to painting not what he dreams but what he sees. are easy to study. the disaster verifiable. There is no greater deHght. an irresistible law that the artist should act upon the pubHc.THE QUEEN OF THE FACULTIES I 233 know it. To these doctrinaires. even to the novel and to poetry. in the action of the mass ask on individuals. and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial. and besides. forced obedience of is an incontestable. because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nevertheless it is a happiness to dream. no finer triumph tiban an excellent copy of nature. Each day art further diminishes its self-respect by bowing down before external reahty. who were so completely satisfied by Nature.

' How mysterious is ties! Imagination. or (if this question might seem too well calculated to pander to their sarcasm) whether they were quite certain of knowing all nature. and yet there are people who are very sensitive. He must avoid Hke the plague borrowing the eyes and the feelings of another man. I say. and it is not entirely that. of contour. and not realities. that is. It is and those men by productions Hke both analysis and synthesis. that it It touches all the others. It is sensitivity. It is that. It decomposes all creation. and with the raw materials accumulated and disposed in accordance with rules clever at analysis . too sensitive perhaps. all that is contained in nature. for then his productions would be lies in relation to himself. of confusion. ^We have no imagination. however great that man may be. He must be really faithful to his own nature. should only paint in accordance with what he sees and with what he feels.234 THE SALON OF 1859 have been more philosophical to ask the doctrinaires in question first of all whether they were quite certain of the existence of external nature. In the beginning of the world it created analogy and metaphor. It is Imagination that first taught man the moral meaning of colour. them into combat. and we decree that no one else is to have any. of sound and of scent. and yet men who are and sufficiently quick at summing up. let us simply believe that they meant to say. did not wish the matter to be understood in this way. the doctrine meant— at least I do it the honour of believing that it meant: The artist. the true poet. who are not quickened thereby are easily recognizable their some strange curse which withers the fig-tree in the Gospel. can be devoid of imagination. But if these pedants of whom I am speaking (for there is a pedantry even among the mean-spirited) and who have representatives everywhere (for their theory flatters impotence no less than laziness)— if these pedants. So far as I have been able to understand its singular and humiliating incoherences. At times it and yet it is always Queen of the Faculthem and sends resembles them to the point rouses itself. A *yes' would have been the most boastful and extravagant of answers. who have none of it. the true artist.

imagination steps in. As it has created the world (so much can be said.THE QUEEN OF THE FACULTIES whose origins 235 one cannot find save in the furthest depths creates a new world. it is proper that it should govern it. to his knowledge of language or to his observation of facts. all the faculties. so long as they are excited by a vigorous imagination. Imagination is the queen of truth. is a secondary misfortune. but that if he is put in command of an army. but that he will never discover any laws that have not yet been guessed at. and proudly and simply guesses the answer. Of a scholar without imagination? that he has learnt everything that. which in some countries has become bigotry and in others protesor tantism. It has a positive relationship with the infinite. and the possible is one of the provinces of truth. Often when our other faculties only find what they are seeking after successive trials of several different methods which are illadapted to the nature of things. it plays a powerful role even in ethical matters. he will make no conquests. to the imagination. even in a religious sense). cruel. None of them can do without it. . Without imagination. having been taught. could be learnt. sterilizing thing. are as though they did not exist. What would be said of a warrior without imagination? that he might make an excellent soldier. What would be said of a diplomat without imagination? that he may have an excellent knowledge of the history of treaties and alliances in the past. whereas a weakness in some of the secondary faculties. What is virtue without imagination? You might as well speak of virtue without pity. Finally. The case could be compared to that of a poet of the soul. but the lack of some of them can be made up by it. but that he will never guess the treaties and alliances held in store by the future. however sound sharpened they may be. it or a novehst who took away the command of his faculties from the imagination to give it. for— allow me to go so far and to ask. it produces the sensation of newness. virtue without Heaven—it is a hard. for example. I will not In spite of aU the magnificent privileges that I attribute pay your readers the insult of explaining to them that the more it is helped in its work. I think.

. imagine not. although unassisted by practice or by acquaintance with technical terms. which I hope you Do you think that the author of Antony. I should like to will not scorn. should pronounce a magnificent eulogy on a period when life overflowed.236 the THE SALON OF 1859 more powerful it is.^ This circumstance aroused my curiosity. Boulanger. etc. I should even imagine that to do so would be antipathetic to his nature. of Count Hermann. Nevertheless. has permitted (in a century. within Not long ago I was in a train and I was pondering over the article which I am now writing: I was considering above all that singular reversal of values which province. for the most important part. he is an example to prove that the imagination. and should sing the praises of that happy time chance. a tiny example. and that there is nothing more formidable in our battles with the ideal than a fine imagination disposing of an immense armoury of observed fact. quote you an example. you will sayman. which I assure you did not lack grandeur. that the creator of the romantic drama should raise his voice.—that ^ Dumas' articles on this L'art et les artistes contemporains Salon were collected and published as au Salon de 1859. is a scholar? I Do you suppose that he has steeped himself in the practice of the arts and has made a patient study of them? Of course not. who seems to represent universal vitahty. which the imagination owes to its divine origin. and of Monte Cristo. in which. the Deveria is brothers. Alexandre Dumas had taken over this year's account of the works in the Salon. You can guess my delight when I discovered my reflections amply verified by an example thrown in my way by a fine subject for surprise!. Very well then. is nevertheless incapable of producing heretical nonsense in a matter its which is. Poterlet. for man's chastening. I grant you. And then I saw lying on a nearby cushion a forgotten copy of the Independance Beige. to return to what I was saying a moment ago concerning the prerogative of making up deficiencies. Bonington. everything has been permitted him) a disdain of the most honourable and the most useful of the moral faculties. What that this when at the side of the new school of Hterature there flourex- ished a new school of painting— Delacroix.

what swiftness in the expression of truth! You will aheady have finished my argument for me: If Alexandre Dumas. one must conclude. and he has spoken it well. was written in that loose dramatic style which he has gradually adopted in talking to his innumerable audience. that Troyon has no genius. I shall simply tell you what I learnt from the lips of a master. they will do so. he would only have spoken nonsense. to several of our painters. had not been lucky enough to possess a rich imagination. do you find that so simple? All this. for example. Delacroix. and should even analyse what he lacks in order to simulate genius—tell me. like touch-stones. We not shall shortly be embarking upon a more intimate examination of the functions of this cardinal faculty (does its richness put you in mind of ecclesiastical crimson?). sins of the best of the declare that Alexandre Salon. shall be able to apply them in succession. because imagination. as it is. There remains yet one device for my adversary. it is to ness. embraces also the critical spirit. that he.THE QUEEN OF THE FACULTIES that he should 237 acdy what you would expect! Laudator temporis actil But pay a witty tribute to Delacroix. Alexandre Dumas. . thanks to its supplementing nature. who is no scholar. If they have not it already picked up. *i. that it to journalistic hacks should be thrown to the old-clothes-fanciers. and yet. that he should succinctly explain the nature of his opponents' mad- and that he should go even further and point out the most recently celebrated painters. what grace. of course. should demonstrate so well. so reckless and fluent a writer.e. and this device so stale. he has spoken sound sense. and penny-a-liners. But this insult is Dumas is not the author of his such an old one.^ and just as at that time I used to verify his simple precepts by reference to every picture that came under my eyes—with all the delight of a man who is educating him- self—so we. my friend. in our turn.

Crowe on this point. I have always admired and envied her capacity for belief. in as much as man is made in the Hkeness of God. and upholds his uni-' verse.238 THE SALON OF 1859 IV THE GOVERNANCE OF THE lAIAGINATlON Yesterday evening I sent you the last pages of my in which I wrote. before I had become an iconoclast. it is Imagination that governs it. I do not simply mean to convey the common notion impHed by that much abused word. pp. but the constructive imagination. which is a much higher function.' I feel no shame— on tlie contrary. impavidum ferient. and I think that worlds could have come to an end. About notes. Obviously he wished even in my to show the greatest indulgence we is talked from the very beginning of to say. and which. I am very happy— to have coincided with the excellent Mrs. 128 and .' Afterwards. When I met him for the first time. creates. which is as fully developed as is that of doubt in others. which is only fancy.t and most profound questions. of the vastest and kindness to me. I said that a long time ago I had heard a man who was art. *By imagination. that this love nor any other power of reasoning but instinct. ^On Mrs. as I was turning the pages of The Night Side of Nature. 'Since Imagination created the world. and this instinct were passably true for lively. Crowe's The Night Side of Nature (London 1848) ff. which I quote simply because it is a paraphrase and justification of the line which was worrying me. a true scholar and deeply learned in his expressing tlie most spacious and yet the simplest of ideas on this subject. I possessed no other It is experience but that which results from a consuming love. letter. bears a distant relation to that subHme power by which the Creator projects. not without a certain diffidence. extreme youth my eyes had never been able to drink their fill of painted or sculpted images. for commonplaces— tha. see Gilman.^ I came across this passage.

their genealogy and their etymology —in brief. no element of art. that is easily intelligible. in the poetic sense of the word. With such a method. so to speak. that is so that the language of the dream may be translated as neatly as possible. in adjusting those elements. the landscape or interior which provides them with horizon or background. was—I should rather say. ity. Properly to his dictionary as a composition. which essentially logical. the vice of banal- which those painters are particularly prone whose specialty brings them closer to external nature—landscapepainters. if who generally consider it a triumph they contrive not to show their personalities. to The result is a great vice. that is lest anything may be lost of the extraordinary vividness which accompanied its conception. Painters who are obedient to the imagination seek in their dictionary for the elements which suit with their conception.THE GOVERNANCE OF THE IMAGINATION nature. their relative disposition. they forget to feel and to think. for example: 'Nature 239 is but a dictionary/ he kept understand the extent of meaning implied in this sentence. all the figures. By dint of contemplating. if it should be very rapid. Just as a dream inhabits its own proper atmosphere. for example. seeing that every precaution must be taken to make is his execution both deft and unerring. you extract from it all the elements that compose a sentence or a narrative: but no one has ever thought of on repeating. must carry its original warmth. so a conception which has become a composition needs to move with a coloured setting which . with more or less of art. must serve to illuminate the idea which gave them birth. of which one man takes this and another that as the most important. For this great painter. however. But those who have no imagination the dictionary. they confer upon them a totally just new copy physiognomy. their garments—everything. If a very neat execution is called for. its livery. if the artist's attention should even be directed to something so humble as the material cleanliness of his tools. you should consider the numerous ordinary usages of a dictionary. however. is— anything but the humblest servant of a unique and superior faculty. in fact. In it you look for the meaning of words.

and raising it by one degree towards perfection. each new layer conferring greater reality upon the dream. Obviously a particular tone is allotted whichever part of a picture is to become the key and to govern the others. A good picture. not sketched but actually begun— that is to say. glory and love: but there are thousands of diflFerent yellow or red atmospheres. and all the other colours will be aflFected logically and to a proportionate degree by the atmosphere to which dominates. It must be is its obvious touch. as we see it. so a harmoniously-conducted picture consists of a series of pictures superimposed on one another. and when the whole . There are paintings by Rubens which law of over-all not only make one think of a coloured firework. the broader on the same platform. for they will fuse naturally at a distance determined by the law of sympathy which has brought them together. We can see that harmony condemns many instances of dazzling or raw colour. it is finished with. even in the work of the most illustrious painters. richness. should be brought into being like a world. Everyone knows that yellow. In colourist has certain of its aspects the art of the music. As soon as each stage is reached. which is a faithful equivalent of the dream which has begotten it. Colour will thus achieve a greater energy and freshness. You might compare this kind of work to a piece of purely manual labour— so much space to be covered in a given time—or to a long road divided into a great number of stages. On the other hand I remember having seen in the studios of Paul Delaroche and Horace Vemet huge pictures. but it is better that individual touches should not be materially fused. but of several fireworks set off that the larger a picture. while others were only indicated with a black or a white outline.240 is THE SALON OF 1859 pecuKar to itself. tice And an evident affinity with mathematics and yet its most delicate operations are performed by means this great of a sentiment or perception to which long prac- has given an unqualifiable sureness. is the result of several creations in which the preceding ones are always completed by the following. with certain passages completely finished. orange and red inspire and express the ideas of joy. Just as the creation.

in which thus: of corollaries is contained. particularly concerning the concordant aspects of all the arts. and their similarities in result of the ideas As a clear as I . in accordance with the varying Nevertheless I scribed is am temperaments of artists. brief. Just as a good knowledge of the dictionary does not necessarily imply a knowledge of the art of composition. And systems of prosody and rhetoric have never yet prevented originality from clearly emerging. convinced that what I have just de- the surest method for men of a rich imagination. Consequently. because a universal imagination embraces the understanding of all means of expression and sort of pasture transform. in the same way a good painter need not be a great painter. it is a which the imagination must digest and human soul must be subordinated to the imagination. All the faculties of the the desire to acquire them. but rather they are collections of rules demanded by the very constitution of the spiritual being. I To be resulting from my principal must pass over a whole crowd formula. these rules are more or less modifiable. if an artist's divergences from the method in is evidence that an abnormal being set upon some secondary question are too great. and just as the art of composition does not itself imply a universal imagination. But a great painter is perforce a good painter. I have no fear that anyone may consider it absurd to suppose a single education to be applicable to a crowd of different individuals. The contrary— namely that they have assisted the birth of originality—would be infinitely more true.THE GOVERNANCE OF THE IMAGINATION road has been run. and which may be expressed The whole visible universe is but a storehouse of images and signs to which the imagination will give a relative place and value. the It is clear that all artist is 24I delivered of his picture. so to speak. the entire formulary of the true aesthetic. there and undue importance is element of art. which puts them in requisition all at once. For it is obvious that systems of rhetoric or prosody are no arbitrarily invented tyrannies. which I have just been making as have been able (but there are still so many things that I should have mentioned.

the universe without man. from a religious scene to the most modest to project their reflection landscape. defined. I whose sense has not been properly call and so in order the better to characterize their propose to them 'positivists*. amateurs of the antique. and they say. of it is THE SALON OF 1859 clear that the vast family of artists— that is men who have devoted themselves to artistic expression—can be divided into two quite distinct camps.24^ method). to say. these men conform to a purely conventional set of rules—rules entirely arbitrary. HISTORY. 'I want to represent things as they are. But besides the imaginatives and the there is self-styled realists. supposing that I did not exist/ In other words. There are those who call themselves 'realists'— a word with a double meaning. the critics observe that religious more and more deficient. In this very numerous but very boring class we include the false false dignity. tives The others —say. T want to illuminate things however— the 'imaginawith my mind. a third class of painters who are timid and servile. but simply imposed by the routine of a celebrated studio. I do not know if they . nevertheless the erally man of imagination has gen- in fantasy. while landscape and and the type of painting called 'genre' would appear to offer enormous opportunities to those whose minds are lazy and excitable only with diffitended to express himself in religious painting culty. or rather as they would be. not derived from the human soul. and another is seeking to paint its own soul. the false amatein-s of style— in short. all those men who by their impotence have elevated the 'poncif' to the honours of the grand style. and upon other minds/ Although these two absolutely contrary methods could magnify or diminish any subject. FANTASY At every painting is fresh exhibition. and who place all their pride at the disposal of a code of While one group believes that it is copying nature. error. RELIGION.

dear knovni. HISTORY.RELIGION. I are calling us and demanding our atten- have nevertheless thought it right. provided that his imagination is fit to rise so far. In the same way the character of Polyeuctes demands from the poet and the actor a spiritual ascent and an enthusiasm far more lively than those demanded by some vulgar character in love with a vulgar earthly creature. like socialist writers. or even than a purely political hero. is that at the moment of executing his work. Spiritus fiM ubi milt. but certainly. naturally make beauty dependent religious writer has at- upon and more than one tributed to a simple lack of faith this difficulty in giving expression to the things of faith. fired as he by necessity. Religious writers. Let us simply say then that since religion is the highest fiction of the human mind (I am purposely speaking as an atheistic professor of the fine arts would speak. to start off with two names but little. 1 shall beHeve if I wish. I do not know if MM. The only concession that one can reasonably make to those who hold to the theory of faith as the unique source of religious inspiration.' The cruel and humiliating maxim. as to quality. the actor and the artist must believe in the reality of is what he is representing. they have had sufficient faith for the object in view. FANTASY are correct so far as 243 certainly numbers are concerned. in composing each of them an excellent devotional work. Legros and Amand Gautier have faith as the Church understands it. but tend to they make no mistake belief. They have in proved that even in the 19th century an artist can produce a good religious picture. and if I do not wdsh. loses its credit in matters of art. ing did not artists ofiFer show us and if the history of paintus the example of impious and atheistical the facts did not producing excellent religious works. Thus it is that art is the only spiritual sphere which man can say. and nothing of what I say should be inferred as arguing against my own faith) it wiU require the most vigorous imagination and the most concentrated efforts from those who devote themselves to the expression of its acts and its sentiments. Although the more important paintings of Eugene Delacroix tion. philosophically demonstrated if This error could be sufficient proof to the contrary. if at my all. M— To . I shall not beHeve. the poet.

that fear above all of being made a dupe. Merlmee may . and its positive value is enhanced for us by the joy of having discovered it. By a mysterious association of ideas which subtle wits will understand. Hke those of a good connoisseur. Perhaps I am waong to be totally ignorant of M. Legros. wrinkled with age skin parched by the flame of sorrow. but his eyes.44 THE SALON OF 1859 is the natural scent of the forgotten or unfamiliar flower added the paradoxical scent of its own obscurity. pi. cotton and home-spun. all bowed with work.2 Nevertheless the mind of the true critic. this triviahty is hke a seasoning for its charity and tenderness. He could not deny its singular merits. ^Probably Stendlial (see 323 below). the confidence God. like that of the true poet. I was with our common friend Monsieur C— whose attention I drew to this humble and penetrating work. the grotesquely attired child who is ^ Now in the collection of Mr. which was most cruelly mocked by the French writer who was himself most singularly obsessed by it. which the evening Angelus^ assembles within the nave of the church of one of cities—these simple people with their sabots and brellas.2. being in love with elegant and worldly beauties. See p. Legros is a man of vigorous mind. it is as easy for him to take delight in the dazzling grandeur of Caesar in triumph as in the grandeur of a poor suburbanite his knees in the presence of his God. Asa Lingard. See how the artist has realized and recaptured for us all those feelings of refreshment which dwell beneath the roof of the Catholic on church—the humiHty which of the poor in the justice of rejoices in itself. were a Httle disconcerted by its rustic aspect—by this little community clothed in corduroy. on the contrary. and the hope of succour. but that. 16. though Crepet. suggests the possibility that be intended. injury to only goes to prove that M. even if it does not mean the forgetting of present misfor- tunes! That the vulgar trappings of his subject do no its moral grandeur. He was subject to that national our great their umtheir and evidently mood. should be open to every beauty. in his note on this passage. but I will admit that I had never before seen a work signed with his name. The first time that I noticed his picture.

In the same way poor man's child is all embarrassment.RELIGION. Seymour Haden. 1908. M. who stole the picture back in order to restore it to its original state. was for me but an added charm. the owner of the picture. HISTORY. Life of Whistler. * and physiognomies—was minutely According to Pennell. to the great annoyance of Legros. FANTASY awkwardly twisting his 245 me think of Sterne's donkey cap in the temple of God made and the macaroons. He found this so irritating that finally he corrected it himself. Amand Gautier is the author of a work which had already struck the eye of the critics several years remarkable work. which makes one think of the categories of Aristotle). The don- key's to diminish the feeling of we this comic appearance while eating a cake does nothing compassion that we feel when see the miserable slave of the farm receiving a few dainties at the hand of a philosopher. the somewhat dull colour and the minuteness of the details are in harmony with the eternally precious character of devotion. and then because what is positively and universally exact is never exact. it would not have been acceptable. combined with a faithful and intelligent amount of observation. It represents the courtyard of an asylum for female lunatics— subject which he treated not according to the philosophic. I do not agree. I believe. Germanic method (that of Kaulbach for example. jury. The painter's friends claim that everything in the work—heads. by recalling the burning naivete of the primitives. 77. I. first because I detected symptoms to the contrary in the organization of the picture. Monsieur C— pointed out to me that the background does not recede sufficiently^ and that the figures seem to be stuck somewhat flatly on to the decoration which surrounds them. but with the dramatic feeling of the French. which was rejected. But I own that this fault. and trembles as he tastes the celestial sweets. . original vol. I forgot to mention that the execution of this pious work is of a remarkable solidity. p. ago— by the but which can be studied today in the window of one of the principal picture-dealers of the city. In a work less intimate and less penetrating. gestures and copied from nature. also noticed a fault of perspective here.

to this immense milky way of chalky ineptitudes that these two modest canvases have been banished. that whole sex subdued to discipline like a soldier. All that there is of anguish in the Passion impassions him. in the left part of the building. I felt that curious impression which is produced by certain paintings of Lesueur and by the best of PhiHppe de Champaigne— those. It is to this glory-hole of false ex-votos. This year single Charite^ It requires a true mastery to distil the tender poetry contained in those long uniform garments. of duty pleasurable in all its monotony.246 THE SALON OF 1859 M. 17. lacking all feminine coquetry. those long white walls. If any of my readers wants to seek these pictures out. I mean. war. His imagination blazes with every flame and every shade of crimson. On his inspired canvases he pours the rare elect. that fagade which is simple to a degree of poverty. He is indeed one of no less in mind embraces religion domain. as if it were a comer of a garden unvisited by the sun. those upright attitudes. . The general effect of this gallery is so chilly that few people find their way to it. I should warn him that they are to be found at the far end of the gallery. Amand Gautier has exhibited a work which bears the simple title. and the scope of his its * Now in the Lille Museum. of the invariable. see pi. Kke the banks of glowing candles before a shrine. But the imagination of Delacroixl Never has it flinched before the arduous peaks of rehgionl to it. While studying this canvas. which as is painted with a touch as broad and simple its subject. attitudes as modest and serious Everything in M. its face gleaming as the religious Hfe sadly with the rosy pallor of consecrated virginity— all these things give us a sensation of the eternal. The heavens belong than heU. in the depths of a great square haU where an innumerable multitude of canvases have been confined— so-caUed religious paintings. Olympus and love! In him you have the model of the painter-poet. in those rigid head-dresses and those itself. all that there is of splendour in the Church casts its glory upon him. for the most part. Les Sceurs de admirable. Gautier's picture contributes to the development of the central thought. which represent the monastic life. those trees correctly set in line.

and has poured out his fantasy in waves upon our dazzled eyes. but was escorted in ceremony by two other angels. I believe that bestow own natural magnificence majesties of the Gospel itself. out of superabundance. Very well. from this man who has illumined history with shafts of Hght his palette. positively melts with feminine sensibility and poetic unction. begins invariably with these words: 1 must own that I make no pretensions of being a connoisseur. rue St. for the mysteries of painting are a closed book for me. 1707). has recently manhood has consecrated all his time to the memory and his eye for the forging weapons for his imagination—this genius. . those lilac-coloured peasants. Tasso. Ariosto. the Christ in the Garden of Olivet be possible. Antoine). and who since his earliest exercise of his hand. . and the effect of this celestial retinue was powerful and touching. are never without an echo in his mind. but nevertheless ^Painted in 1841 (Robaut No. in a young journalist whose ministry had so far confined itself to giving an account of the dress of Madame So-and-so at (red the latest ball at the Hotel de Ville. though advanced in the number of his years. Shakespeare. Byron.' St Paul. and that red smoke ! smoke! what a daring touch!) In what a bilious-green manner have they been treated! Delacroix's complete works have been ground to powder and scattered to the foiu: winds of heaven. Ohl those pink horses. . this man who. HISTORY.' (in that case. ^See the Exposition Universelle journalist's article (p. "Exhibited in 1827. 213). . is yet stamped with the stubbornness of youth. One of his youthful pictures. This kind of article. his of ever surer short. light willingly 247 he would upon the I and darkness his in turn. in found a master to teach him his art. FANTASY blood. remember seeing a Httle Annunciation^ by Delacroix in which the angel visiting Mary was not alone. if it (*0 my in the church of wrestled with Scott. it was Alphonse Karr. which you can hear spoken in any bourgeois drawing-room. this extraordinary man who has Father. Dante and the Gospels. my friend. Anguish and Splendour. which ring forth so sublimely in reUgion. Goethe. let this cup pass from me!.RELIGION. where the name is given.

purple and plumes were very happy inventions to impress the vulgar.. always punctual for his engagements. I have known many passions. inexhaustible outpouring of painting. an indispensable condition of talent . Delacroix has been given genius. Once more I found that power—v^dld. I do not think that I am mistaken when I say that M. it would be easy to guess the name of the man whom I heard one evening saying: 'Like all men of my age.' Pascal said that togas. Thiers has been a prophet.. so long as But what does stupidity matter. 'Some journalist level of the bourgeois strange recollection of the great masters seized hold of at the sight of this picture me (Dante and Virgil). . and that ever since that time our painter. it is by no means time wasted to measure the strength of resistance against which genius is pitted.. the whole importance of this young amounts to the fact that he represents the general mind— and that is quite enough for our purpose. and yet the oflBcial distinctions of ® Baudelaire had already quoted a long passage from Thiers* Salon de 1822 (including the sentences quoted here) in his own Salon de 1846 (see pp. ardent yet natural—which yields without effort to its ovm impulse . showing untiringly (to use M. Delacroix has hurled himself into immense tasks— and he has not disarmed opinion. Thiers' polite and indulgent expression) 'that spurt of superiority which revives hopes which have aheady been a trifle dashed by the too moderate merit of all the others. but it is only in work that I have felt myself perfectly happy. to mark with a label what is truly to be respected.' And a little later he added. my friend.248 THE SALON OF 1859 it is why speak of it?). let him advance v^dth assurance. let him devote himself to immense tasks. generally ends with some acri- equivalent to a glance of envy directed towards those fortunate people who comprehend say. To see this majestic. 51-2 above). Please remember that this comedy has been played against Delacroix since 1822. but he was so on that day. and monious remark which the incomprehensible. you may genius triumphs? Nevertheless. has at every exhibition given us several pictures amongst which there has always been at least one masterpiece.'*! do not know how many times during his life M..

fortunate among the fortunate is he whose talent not only triumphs over obstacles. Outside. with the manifest intention of diminishing the merit of those who came after them. since it has triumphantly evolved in an atmosphere and a territory which are hostile to it. or rather he did conceive it. prolific and sublime. and believe that it is the scarcity of the elect that makes a perhaps for the best. tell me if you have ever seen the essential solemnity of the Entombment^ better expressed? Do you honestly believe that Titian would have invented this? He would have conceived it. then. encouraged and incited as they were by an illustrious company of princes and prelates—but why do I stop here? by the masses themselves. FANTASY 249 which Delacroix has been the object have done nothing to silence ignorance. but I prefer it this way.RELIGION. I think that for those. an emblem of the subterranean Hf which the new religion was to lead for many years. and out of pure compliance. But to look carefully at the matter. like myself. facing p. everything is a privileged man for whom I accept. a spiral of light and air gliding upwards. vol. and which we must leave to future ages to utter? But to return to reUgious painting. The Holy Mother is about to faint. that it may be inferior) is not infinitely more meritorious. differently. We " Repro. hold that artistic affairs should only be discussed between aristocrats. HISTORY. I should say. The setting is the vault itself. but even creates new obstacles in order to triumph over them. . although I am quite prepared to bestow my enthusiasm upon these great shades who have no need of it. who. in a country and a century in which the old masters would not have been able to survive. For when I hear men like Raphael and Veronese being lauded to the skies. who were artists to a man in that golden age But what are we to say of the modem artist who has risen to the heights in spite of his century. He is as great as the old masters. He is indeed Providence keeps enemies in reserve. she can scarcely support herself. The noble artists of the Renaissance would have been positively to blame if they had not been great. 240. Escholier. unless it be things which this age will not paradise. I ask myself if a merit which is at least the equal of theirs (I will even admit for a moment. Ill.

Arts. facing p. here he is to live and to die. see pi. vol. 60. into that sepulchre which the world will adore. I tore away the grasses which covered altered. we world. o'er which a laurel was growing. 1859.^^ \yi]] j^g noble friends in Rome be able to overcome the emperor's spite? Will he one day know again the luxurious pleasures of that prodigious city? No: from this inglorious land the long and melancholy river of the Tristia will flow in vain. It is impossible for an amateur who is anything of a poet not to feel his imagination struck. I ^°Robaut 1353: repro. to rebuke him for only being able to paint sketches Look next upon the famous poet who taught the Art oj Love. a complicated. lying on the wild grass. Gazette des Beaux. end of time/ Saint Sebastian^^ also is not only a marvel of painting. I found myself within sight of the waves of the Euxine Sea. see pi. 'One day. passionate and learned com- 'It was to have been carried out on a large scale are told at St. with a soft sadness which is almost that of a woman. by the artist who knows his whose purpose has now Although he has taken every precaution. Eugene Delacroix always bestows upon her a tragic breadth of gesture which is perfectly appropriate to this Queen of Mothers. there he is.' been has clearly said to the pubHc. Sulpice'. 59. as Vhich The but is will have nothing to give is up at the Ren6 superbly said. and 1 want to show you the small-scale project of a large work with which I had been commissioned'. as usual. 'the only sepulchre'. as he gazes at that little group of men who are tenderly carrying the body of their God into the depths of a crypt. after crossing the Istei near its mouth and becoming separated from my band ol huntsmen. by an but by an impression of poetry. of sadness. ^ The picture in question is Ovid in (Robaut 1376). 'in the baptismal chapel. 138. " Now in the Metz Museum. instead of turning the most Holy Mother into a Httle woman from an Easter Album. Exile among the Scythians . religion and universality. 11. not historical impression. I came upon a tomb of stone.250 THE SALON OF 1859 should note in passing that. the critics have not failed. an exquisite thrill The Ascent to Calvary'^^ position.

'Some of them are examining him with curiosity'. is faithfully You will find therein the broadness of touch and feeling which characterized the pen which wrote Les Natchez. my book. ^^ I shall certainly not try to translate with my pen all the luxurious melancholy which this verdant exile distils. Perhaps it is better just to quote the catalogue. " Quoted from the epilogue .RELIGION. they of his language. I have quoted these reflections of Eudorus. but for twenty Rome could watch the flowing tears of Ovid with still remember They come and dry eyes. which speaks in the concise. and are offering him wild fruits and mare's milk. The melancholy dance around his ashes. we are told quite simply. HISTORY. the poet of fashionable elegance is not insensible to these barbarian " The above passage tyrs.' For all his sadness. FANTASY several 2^1 words of Latin. and in Eugene Delacroix's rough idyll I recognized a 'tale of perfect beauty'. and the languishing sadness of the Christian prisoner reflected in it. the grace of the primitive dwelling and a simplicity in teUing a tale of sorrow which I do not flatter myself have preserved'. But less ungrateful than the peoples of Ausonia. the wild inhabitants of the banks of the Ister the Orpheus who appeared in their forests 1 have even retained something sweet to them is the memory of that Roman who accused himself of being a barbarian because his voice was not heard from the Sarmatic shorel'^^ It is not without reason that. on the subject of Ovid. because he has put into it 'the desert's flower. You can imagine which talents in the sadness of also my reflections upon the pains my own. 'others are greeting him in their manner. tidy language of Delacroix's literary works. 'You will go to Rome. so tone of the poet of Les Martyrs suits this picture. is quoted from Chateaubriand's Les Marto Chateaubriand's Atala. and soon I succeeded in reading this first line of the elegies of an ill-fated poet. and upon the uselessness of securing happiness! years Rome today deHghts in the pictures painted by the most ingenious of her poets. and you will go to feelings Rome 'I without me/ could not depict to you of my on finding the of exile. tomb were Ovid in the heart of this desert.

He is an excellent draughtsman. so faithfully does his work retain the stamp and temper of its conception. It is the infinite within the finitel It has the quahty of a dream! and by this word I do not mean those riotous Bedlams of the night. a prodigious an eager and resourceful composer— all this is obvious. on p. sui generis. but rather the vision naturally which comes from intense meditation. with minds less fertile. ^ See n. for the wine comes always from the same cask. the wonderful aspect of things. and he able to feast his eyes who has who himself happy. In a word. Sctfthians that it is but it can be said of Ovid among the one of those wonderful works such as Delacroix alone can conceive and paint. of whom I shall have the pleasure of talking to you presently. from artificial stimulants. exquisite. so melancholy has clothed the painter's superabundant landscape with its own magical glaze. appreciative or a rich upon it every day may also call The mind sinks into it with a slow and rapture. . or brimming with thought. And just as exile poet that quality of sadness which he had hitherto lacked. All the delifertility of talent that cacy and Ovid possessed have passed gave the brilliant into Delacroix's picture. heady. more than others perhaps. Fromentin. But how comes it that he produces a sensation of novelty? What does he give us which is more than the past has given us? He is as great as the great. I am cudgelling my brain in order to extract some formula which may properly express Eugene Delacroix's speciality. as clever as the clever. I find it impossible to say that any one of Delacroix's pictures is his best. gifted with a richer imagination. he expresses for us above all the inmost secret of the brain. 307. ^^ colourist. fertile drift of reverie. or. for example. is The artist painted this can count himself a happy man. I would almost be prepared to swear that. but why does he please us more? One might perhaps say that. as it would sink into the heavens. all this has akeady been said. to the THE SALON OF 1859 charm of this rustic hospitality. it must have pleased highly-strung and poetic temperaments— M. I all its into the sea's horizon— into eyes and am convinced diat this picture has a charm own for subtle spirits.25^ graces.

and pastiches of the frescoes of Herculaneum. Believe me. with their pale tints obtained by means of impalpable washes of colour. beyond the shame of ha\dng to admit that I was a feeble spirit. propose of pedantry. but which I. what profit would I gain. For most of the time it has simply been a matter of transporting common. Thus on one side you v^ill find a pile of bric-a-brac (the serious element). possessed by the need of age! is But what the good? For even if I this childish prayer and should see my seeing its convictions ratified? VI RELIGION. and on the other a transposition of the trivialities of ^ life into antique cir- According to Crepet. politely calls the 'Neo-Greek'. if you vdU allow me. everyday life into a Greek or Roman setting.^ In this school the object is of erudition to disguise a lack of imagination. Both celebrated antiquarian writers. HISTORY. courage that it vi^ould need for a dead man to consent to come cried alive again ('Send me back to Hell!'. Dezobry and Barthelemy^ will be of great assistance in this. who used it to describe pedantic authors.RELIGION. when the Thessalian witch restored him nevertheless to be revived in time to take part in the raptures and the praises which he will provoke in a future should be granted prophecy fulfilled. of the 19th . wiU allow the painter to dodge all the difficulties of rich and soHd painting. so as to lend a Httle to dub the 'school of the pointus'. is 253 its Eugene Delacroix all the painter of the soul in this man sometimes makes or. as the poor soul to life). in his benevolence. in spite of all me the crave to live as long as a patriarch. HISTORY. and you will have the fons et origo of a school which Theophile Gautier. FANTASY (continued) Combine the epigrammatic wit of France with an element weight to its natural buoyancy. Baudelaire borrowed this phrase from his friend Nadar. FANTASY above golden hours. the former and the latter of the 18th century.

He is a fish which accommodates itself to every sauce. partner for Is this such an incubus oppress the fepersonage the disproportionate whom Pastorella sigheth. his fat wobbHng cheeks liis flesh. where an abundant traffic in more natural birds is carried on. . indeed. who oflFer their merchandise hung up by the wings. on Love. described in the catalogue 'panneaux decoratifs d'un salon de bains'. to this palpable being. So we shall see antique urchins playing at antique ball and with antique hoops. burning of the Tuileries in 1871. Hke a sabre..254 these between THE SALON OF 1859 cumstances (the element of surprise and success). inevitable Love.^ cupids astride aquatic monsters {Decoration for a bathroom). refer. . as Probably the four Seasons by Etex. And yet are we not very weary of seeing paint and marble squandered on behalf of this elderly scamp. 'In sober verity. plays a dominant and universal role in this school. Love.. for tend it is perhaps I should rather call it his and blown out hke a bag of lard hanging on a butcher's hook. the immortal Cupid of the confectioners. which dismeat. and them will henceforth take the place of all the conditions required for good painting. beUeve that such ^ By J. on his mountainous back is stuffed. whom Thomas Hood has shov/n us squatting like a cripple and squashing flat his cloudpillow with his flabby obesity? In his left hand he holds his bow propped against his thigh. He is the president of this courtly and simpering repubhc. winged like an insect or like a duck.'^ and 'Love-Brokers' in plenty. who body? Or does Behnda. 1853 ) it was bought by the Emperor. Hke rabbits pinned by the ears— these should be sent back to the Place de la Morgue.— in the smallest of cots?— Does the platonic in her discourses is all Amanda (who is all soul). his hair is thickly curled hke a coachman's wig. press against his nostrils it is doubtless the elegiac sighs of the universe or and his eyes. amusing themselves with antique dolls and antique toys. idyllic tots playing at grown-ups {Ma Sceur ny est pas). tubular attached a pair of butterfly's wings. with his arrow in his right hand he executes the order 'Shoulder arms!'. Hamon ( and perished * at the Salon. L.— does male bosom? .

No.— being of a corpulent habit. dimpled dolly which represents the popular idea of Love. That he is given to melt— from his great pinguitude. For my part. and in the other a dagger dripping with the blood of its crime. if I were asked to represent Love. does little ° Translated by Baudelaire from Thomas Hood's sketch. dragging noisy chains at its ankles. in Whims and Oddities (1826). Against the final pun. That he sighs— from his size. July-Sept. I think I should paint him in the form of a maddened horse devouring its master. and wither.— in his constancy. and by the marble Apollo. is the legend. but did impas- sioned damsel ever dote. for so all fat bumeth— and hath languishings— like other bodies of his tonnage. HISTORY. The passage is here given in the original. . Hood's essay was accompanied by his own sketch which is described by Baudelaire above. I doubt not of his dying.— Of his blindness— with that inflated pig's cheek. 305. XXVI.— nor his promise that the homage shall remain eternal. because he looks sedentary and not apt to roam. 1935. This makes sweet reading. see Margaret Oilman's 'Baudelaire and Thomas Hood'. pp. beside the pedestal of this preposterous eflBgy? or. . and a short neck.'^ it not?— and it gives us a revenge on that great chubby. 241-4. et. or perhaps a demon with eyes ringed by debauch and insomnia. *On the Popular Cupid'. on pent deviner quel est le sens du mot sty au figure On the whole passage. de plus. shaking a phial of poison in one hand. Baudelaire added the following footnote: *Une etable contient plusieurs cochons. That he burneth with a flame. that a girl of Provence was smitten died. in The Romanic Review. my whole faith is heretic—for she hath never a sty in it. rather. FANTASY a substantial Sagittarius lies 255 ambush'd in her perilous blue eye? It once. is not the unseemly emblem accountable for the coyness and proverbial reluctance of maidens to the approaches of Love? 'I can believe in his dwelling alone in the heartseeing that he must occupy it to repletion. and reproduced here on p. il y a calembour. But for his lodging in BeHnda's eye. 1 dispute not his kneeling at ladies' feet— since it is the posture of elephants. 3. hke a ghost or a galley-slave. vol.RELIGION.

however. It is impossible to fail to recognize some noble qualities in M. Gerome's Combat de Coqs was exhibited at the 1847 Salon. nor will he be. which was Lot 165 at Christies. . Edouard Founder's little book'^ as an inexhaustible source of subjects. Gerome. by transforming this game into a land of antique pastoral. the adherents of this school are forever perpetrating what I call counter-caricatures. In the rebus. will seek to beguile our curiosity ' ^ memory ® Cf. In spite of great and noble efforts—the Si^cle dAuguste^ for example.256 THE SALON OF 1859 in question. and yet his originaHty should be inclined to to (if at least he has such a thing) is often of a laborious nature and scarcely to be detected. which is yet one more proof of his national tendency to look for success elsewhere than in pure painting— M. brazen and irreproachable rebus. Le Vieux neuf. Cisarl. of it has not yet reached the standard VAmour fait passer le Temps and Le up trivial Temps fait passer VAmour. To clothe all modem history and all the modern professions and industries in the costumes of the past would be.^ which taken together have the merit of an exact. Gerome. by their mania for dressing modern life in antique garments. an infalHble and infinite means of causing wonder. I fancy that I am doing them a great service by suggesting M. any more than the first of the pointus—SLt least this is much to be feared. is whose principal characteristic be perpetually irritating. Ger6me was never yet. Coldly he his subjects by the addition of little ingredients warms up and by childish devices. 32. I have no doubt at all that he has exactly portrayed those Roman games. Next. chief among which are his quest for the new and his taste for great subjects. See pi. has simultaneous contact with the proverb. a song by the comte de Segur. and ® is now in the Louvre. 30 Nov. VAmour et le Temps. the rebus and the neo(to The school my eyes) to archaism.^'' nor that a of Manila or of England. destroyed by enemy action. 1928. If they want become even more irritating. Even the honorable sage will take some pleasure in it. published in 1859. I think. The idea of a cock-fight^ naturally evokes M. Formerly in the Amiens Musemn. ^° In his Ave.

and I think that the habit of exercising command— above the all when it is a question of virtues. are you not playing a game which. this butcher. But apart from this I have a sharper criticism to make of the picture in question. seeing that he gives us the retiarius. Many people go into ecstasies in front of the furnishings and the decoration of its royal bed. it is nevertheless the deserved punishment of an artist substitutes the joys of who amusement of a page of erudition for the pure painting. and but feebly distinguished. it is not necessary to join hands with caricature. it must be admitted. who was so jealous of her own person that she considered herself no less polluted by a glance than by the touch of a hand. in default of any rate a certain nobility of attitude which is remote from this self-styled Caesar. a great danger in a subject such as this. besides. this obese wine-merchant. If an Asiatic anecdote is not treated in a way . even to make us suspect the secret abysms of gluttony. Gerome's painting. as his own seductive and trenchermanly pose suggests. why not also the mirmillo?) . has never been either strong or original. but if you base your success upon elements of this kind. looked Hke this flat marionette? There is. at far too commanding world— confers. which is situated at an equal distance between the tragic and the comic. on the contrary.RELIGION. Just look. FANTASY 257 the local colour has been scrupulously observed—I shall not whisper the sHghtest suspicion on this subject (and yet. it has always oscillated between Ingres and Delaroche. if not posiat least a dangerous one? and are you up a suspicious resistance among many who will go away shaking their heads and wondering if it is really certain that things happened exactly like this? Even supposing that such a criticism may be unjust (for one can generally recognize in M. is not liable to stir is both curious of the past and eager for instruction). Indecisive. Even in order to demonstrate a callousness in crime and debauchery. an Asiatic bedroom! what a triumphl But is it really true that his terrible queen. His King Candaules is once again a snare and a distraction. The facture of M. Gerome a mind which tively dishonest. the most that he could aspire to would be the editorship of the Good Trencherman's Journal. HISTORY.

historian and master an immense and deserted hall. and who grew in stature even in death! he whose breast. This way of showing the subject has been criticized. transfixed by the blade. A verwas in the Corcoran Gallery. sion of this subject ^ See Moreau-Vauthier. Why then this earthy colour v^th which his face and arms are veiled? I have heard it suggested that it is the corpse-like hue with which death strikes the face. it is by no means siUy to recall that the dictator took as much care of his person as the most refined dandy. there remains to explain one thing which is inexplicable. We can guess at Rome behind this wall. and we can hear the cries of the Roman people. learned and generous. Its effect is truly great. and thankless at one and the same time towards both victim and assassin: 'Let Brutus be Caesar!' About the picture itself. warrior. In that case how long a time are we to suppose it is since the world. 152-3. frivolities of will invariably call to mind the licentious in the Baudouins and Biards of the 18th century. besides. Gerome's imagination has been carried away this time. We all of us know sufficient Roman history to imagine all that is implied. Caesar carmot be made into a Moor. . Washington. Gerome. it which bloody and Asiatic. stunned at their deHverance. filling orator. it was indeed a happy moment when he conceived his Caesar alone. which a half-open door allows two wide-open eyes to observe the play of a syringe between the exaggerated adornments of a Marquise. it will always raise a laugh. courageous. his skin was very fair. he had every power. both the disorder which preceded and the tumult which followed. Powerful and charming. every glory and every elegance! He whose greatness always went beyond victory. Paris 1906. This terrible summary is enough. Julius Caesarl^i What a sunset splendour this name sheds upon the imagination! If ever a man on earth has seemed Hke God.258 THE SALON OF 1859 is itself sinister. but to my mind it could not be too highly praised. stretched out in front of his overturned thi-one—when he imagined the corpse of this Roman who of the was pontiff. it was Caesar. pp. could find utterance only for a cry of a father's love! he to whom the dagger seemed less cruel than the wound of ingratitude! Certainly M.

how much falseness. Such as it is. From that moment his picture lost all unity. this kind of painting positively exacts either falseness or nulHty. this canvas is the best. But in such conditions there picture left. no less than in reafity. But this excuse would imply that M. But even within a simple episode. Horace several times. Others are content to point out that the arm and the head are enveloped in shadow. Pils for example. I . the terrain becomes more important than the men.RELIGION. exaggeration. And so I am forced to abandon the solution of the mystery. French victories in the field are ceaselessly responsible for great quantities of military pictures. and with all its faults. that prevents one perceiving its central idea. by Charlet and Raffet. whose sofid and imaginative compositions we have often admired. battle is A real not a picture. and incontestably the most striking. and began to be like one of those bad plays in which an excess of parasitic incidents topography. it can only be represented in the form of black. my dear M— what you think of mihtary painting considered as a professional speciahty. that the artist has shown us for a long time. This has been very well understood by M. do not know. FANTASY living 259 man became a corpse? Those who put forward such an excuse must regret the absence of putrefaction. Thus. is no or at least there is only a picture of tactics and Vemet beheved once. which we must exclude from pure art. and in earfier times. and that is not to be believed. in it carefully. apart from pictures made for tacticians and topographers. M. order to be intelligible. But if you think about for. a mifitary picture will only be inteUigible and interesting on the condition that it is a simple episode from military life. and consequently interesting as a battle. or even he was solving the diflBculty by accumulating and juxtaposing a series of episodes. For my part I do not beheve that patriotism compels a taste for the false or the insignificant. and . white or blue fines. Gerome is incapable of representing white flesh in a half light. In a composition of this kind. enclosed space. which stand for the battafions drawn up. the conception which gave it birth. even within the simple representation of a hand-to-hand fight in a small. HISTORY.

spurred and haughty in bearing. and their very glances seemed to insult the humble and embarrassed diplomats of the opposing side. One day I was turning the pages of a famous compilation which depicts the military victories of the French. as M. Book ^^ III. to what a pitch of madness a patriotic writer can be led by a passion which is exclusive and foreign to the arts. 'Ah! si les lions savaient peindre!'^^ in this context he drew upon himself a sharp rebuke from one is of his colleagues. dressed dress them. only fair to mention that the chosen. It moment was not very well and that he ought to have added that all peoples naively display the same fault in their theatres and museums. there they can find a plausible pretext for displaying a fine variety of arms and costumes. and rather to the past that our artists turn in their bellicose hours. more criticisms could one not justly make! as our those long. " La Fontaine. there exists in the heart of man love of victory which not confined by truth. can hardly sustain it is modern Governments a picturesque treatment. whose too lengthy analysis is but an hors-d'oeuvre. 10.^^ One of these prints represented the conclusion of a Peace Treaty. This is not a httle apt to chill an enthusiasm in a rational mind. Next. Because of the Austrian war. which is otherwise quite ready to burst into flame. the hideous profusion of slashed limbs. How many First of all. No. The French actors in this drama were booted. Just consider. and this often gives to such canvases the false air of an advocate's speech. Penguilly has done is in his Combat des a pecuHar Trente. When Alexandre Dumas recently recalled the fable. my friend. with the accompaniment of a text. Le Lion ahattu par Vhomme. . the dreadful cold grimace of a motionless frenzy. and the text praised the artist for having contrived to express the moral vigour of the former by means feebleness of the others and the cowardice and by a roundness of form which was quite feminine! But let us set aside these idiocies.260 THE SALON OF 1859 1 monotony the spectator's eye has often had to endure I own that what distresses me most of all in this kind of spectacle is not the abundance of wounds. drab lines of troops. but rather the immobiHty within the violence. and let us conof their muscular energy.

excludes the idea of the ^^Peinture romanesque. And the soldiers' uniforms set the gay flame of the poppy is at to this vast is of ocean of greenery. aU is poetic here—both nature and man. The sheaves are stacked. it is almost a pastoral. in which every day commands a different task. but same time the contemplation of that eager. so active. my thoughts turned first to our African troops. on the contrary. the tranquil beauty it which sets us dreaming rather than arguing. and with all our fervour. and what beautiful grass- land. for the bugle's recall is echoing through ease of the air. It would be difficult to turn so simple a subject to better account. Genre-painting impHes a certain prosaic quaHty. which we must praise. FANTASY tent ourselves with drawing this 261 that it is morah namely.RELIGION. modesty even in the expression of the most noble and the most magnificent of sentiments.^^ which truly answered my idea rather better. in fact. following the undulations of the landscape up and down with an movement which once nonchalant and regular. however. Moreover the subject-matter an allusive nature. gently rolling in hnes Here the soul breathes a which follow the movement of complex scent. Do not be surprised to find an apparent confusion interrupting the methodical gait of my report for several pages. and Fancy-painting. Tabar's picture. What an the hills! expanse of grassland. In the triple title of this chapter it was not without some reason that I chose the word Fantasy. all is true and picturesque. There is one military picture. down to the piece of twine or the single strap which here and there supports a pair of red trousers. it is not only the freshness of growing things. and before I opened the catalogue. Fourrageurs. adventurous life. You will aheady have possible to lack guessed that I am referring to M. . as I stood in front of this army of reapers. HISTORY. this scene is set in the Crimea. it is not a battle-piece. The catalogue says simply: Guerre de Crimee. the needful harvest is done and the day's work is of a scene is at the doubtless finished. whom the imagination depicts as always so prepared for anything. The soldiers are returning in groups. It is an idyll shot through by war. so Raman— although.

interpreted by the comer.262 fantastic. as dangerous as the prose-poem or the novel. that scholar who loved Watteau so much. and almost of regret. the precious and the delightful— Eugene Lami. On the robuster scale of today. others. for example. Victor Hugo. it has much in common with the love inspired by a prostitute. and a Httle more of the studio. and is if supernatural light fantasy he has no soul to throw a magic and upon the natural obscurity of things. upon the charming productions of some few men who. sometimes continues this cult of the pretty. w^hich quickly falls into idiocy or degradation. gives us a glimpse of a world and a taste which have disappeared. number first of all the thinking beings who It is the thing that comes. from the heroic down to the vignette. on the contrary. ChapHn. Here then you must expect no more analogies. though he does it with a touch of heaviness. be more than usually for fantasy is all the more dangerous as it is the more easy and unconstrained. But fantasy is as vast as the universe. M. First let us throw a passing glance of admiration. multiplied by the inhabit first it. that not one spiritual need was forgotten by its artists. who. you must be prepared for disorder and contrast— a field chequered by an absence of regular cultivation. during that period of noble renaissance of which I spoke at the beginning of this work. Eugene Sue and illustrator of such autliors as Balzac. is the first thing that comes defiled by the first comer. and Wattier. This renaissance was great in everything. witty and noble within a little sphere—painters of the boudoir and of a fighter kind of beauty—were adding incessantly to the present-day album of ideal elegance. In this THE SALON OF 1859 type of painting one's judgement must strict. it is as dangerous as all absolute liberty. his work smacks less of the world. Admittedly he has poured a ^ Nanteuil was a prolific Dumas. it a purposeless horror. were the artists of the pretty. While Eugene Delacroix and Deveria were creating a great and picturesque art. Nanteuil^^ is one of the most nobly productive workers to honour the second phase of this epoch. except by chance. who is moreover an excellent painter. . M. It was a period of such beauty and fruitfulness. between his paradoxical Httle figures.

aU plunging into this haunt of joy. these women. to which we owe eternal stigmata. There is a fatal quality in the children of that triumphant school: Romanticism is a grace. and finds himself suddenly transported into an apartment which is clean. not delight- employed in such modest and fanciful works?^^ He composes admirably. either from Heaven or Hell. and at the same time so noble and elegant in attitude. for I owe him a delightful sensation. he feels his mind light up and his sensibility prepare itself for the things of happiness. FANTASY finger of 263 water into his wine. Clesinger's Eve faculties many " Henri Baron's Entree d'un cabaret vSnitien ou les maitres peintres allaient fSter leur patron saint vol. these master-painters who are past-masters in beauty. to do honoxu: to their patron saint! This composition. adorned with weU-contrived furniture and clothed with caressing colours. as though caused by a gust also a of cool air.RELIGION. Baron have we not man of rare gifts? without is it exaggerating his merit beyond ful to see so all measure. without feeling a Httle shiver of the memory. and their escorts. and he possesses something like the genius of opera. I felt my heart cry out: At last. and into all his little dramas he casts an amusing flame. he groups his figures with ingenuity and colours with ardour. p. so gay.. Illustr. And in M. When a man comes out of a dirty and iU-Ht hovel. . is one of the most perfect dreams of happiness which painting has ever attempted to translate. 33 (1859). Such is the physical pleasure which the Hdtellerie de saint Luc caused me. these waters which bear those parties of distinguished guests beneath a portico streaming with ivy and roses! How splendid they are. which is so rich. I call them dramas because his composition is dramatic. Luc was lepro. Because of her noble proportions. M. 388. we are back again in fine society! How cool they are. I should be really ungrateful if I forgot him. the authors. but he always paints with energy and imagination. constructed as it were of plaster and earth. HISTORY. I can never contemplate that series of dusky and white vignettes with which Nanteuil illustrated the works of his friends. I had just been sadly contemplating a whole chaos of horror and vulgarity. and when I approached this rich and luminous painting.

large landscapes. she possesses other merits too. large ships. It was quite a natural reaction. . both in nature and art. self of full distinction. if I am not mistaken it was woman. Hebert. a happy movement.264 tures of THE SALON OF 1859 all forms a natural antithesis to these charming. I prefer large things above all others— large animals. and transforming my tastes into principles. Before the Salon opened. supposing an equaUty of merit. Hke so many others. and when at last I saw her. ^'Probably his Almee (Salon 1849). my friend. and one. is Le Tasse en in the the state. and now prison (1839). and impeccable modeUing. For I must make an admission. large women. and like M.i® Certainly the success was a deserved one. as "His first picture. in the knees. I had been so forewarned against her that my first reaction was a feeling that people had mocked far too much. Do you remember the first appearance of M. For his kind of distinction Hmits itself too readily to the charms of morbidity and to the monotonous languors of the album or the keepsake. which de- received. I had heard much gossip about this prodigious Eve. which will perhaps cause you to smile. However. to return to M. Hebert. It is undeniable that he paints veiy well indeed. served better than it it is a very good work. large churches. was bought by Grenoble Museum. that happy. but even so he does it without sufficient authority a man with a flourish. Clesinger's Eve. tiny crea- have just been speaking. announced himthough he would always be a welcome guest. Unfortunately the very thing that caused his just celebrity will one day perhaps cause his decHne. the portrait of a that. large men. a tortured elegance in the Florentine taste. I have come to beheve that size is no unimportant consideration in the eyes of the Muse. but exquisite) in an atmosphere of enchantment. which was favoured by my incorrigible passion for the large. in short. sinuous and opalescent— more than she was blessed almost with transparence— and writh- ing (mannered. almost riotous occasion?^''' His second picture claimed particular attention. furthermore. as one might expect from a sculptor. whom we the thighs and the stomach— such. particularly in the lower parts of the body.

by means who I believe is called Guillemette. M. I shall call the fault of all the lit- teratisants. which was scintillating rather than rich. All in all. however. Illustr. HISTORY. FANTASY 265 and energy to hide a weakness of conception. The gaiety of his colour. and now in the Lille Museum. Baudry is more of a natural artist. I distresses am eager that an artist should be me to see him attempting to woo literate.RELIGION. and what I have found is a singular degree of worldly ambition. The time is not yet long past when there was a positive craze for him. Diaz is a curious example of an easy fortune achieved by a unique faculty. Diaz used up this unique faculty with which nature had prodigally endowed him. tente^^ I cannot help fearing that M. M. 33 ( 1859). if they be not positively beyond them. an explicit intention to please by means accepted in advance by the pubhc.. Les Cervarolles is in the Louvre (see pi. 276. I have tried hard to dig beneath all the engaging quahties which I see in him. and his of devices figure of a Httle girl. and then he felt a more difficult ambition stirring within him. see pi. The eye was so honestly entertained that it readily forgot to look for contour and modelling. Baudry remains no more than a 'distinguished' artist. p. vol. These first impulses expressed themselves in the form of pictures of a greater size than those in which we had generally taken so much pleasure. but imagination which are situated at the extreme hmits of his art. and finally a certain fault which it is horribly diflScult to define and which. on the whole prefer his ambitious. critic to has had the honour of causing more than one of the dashing think and lively portraits of Velasquez. now was ^ Now in the Nantes Museum. although his painting is not always sufficiently soHd. Like a true prodigal. . But it was an ambition which turned out to be his ruin. and Rosa Nera d la fontaine repro. for want it of a better term.^^ M. His Madeleine peniis just a little frivolous I and facilely painted. 21). ^ Exhibited 1857. Everyone noticed " Of Ernest Hebert's exhibits this year. 30. called to mind the happy motley of oriental fabrics. His works betray a serious and loving study of the Italian masters. complicated and and cou- rageous picture of the Vestal^^ to his canvases of this year.

Diaz. he therefore dehberately forgot the qualities which had hitherto constituted his glory. he. or perhaps. everyone has already said for himself. repudiated colour and all its pomps in order to give more value and Hght to the human characters which his pencil undertakes to express. Sometimes he agreeably heightens his drawing by the apphcation of a delicate and transparent tint in a luminous It is quite different seems to have stoically passage—but unity. or to suppose that these individuals profess a rehgion which is not theirs. And he expresses them with a remarkable intensity and depth. on the contrary. It impossible to attribute them one or another race. and when at last you want to correct a haphazard education and to acquire princhalk. Some reforms are impossible after a certain age. For long years you rely on an instinct which is generally happy. THE SALON OF 1859 mind was tormented by jealousy in reit would seem that which had grown used to noting down the scinhis when spect of Correggio and Prud'hon. One thing that distinguishes indifferently to however. this. It is difficult to define the causes which have so rapidly diminished M.Z66 the time his eye. seeing that his ambition to and now on was ciples until then neglected. But tillation of a little world. and the rebellious and unsettled hand can no more express what it once expressed so well than it can give form to the entrusted. vdthout breaking its severe M. but perhaps we may be allowed to suppose that these laudable desires have come to him too late. But I have to about a man of such renowned worth am only an echo. The brain has adopted incorrigible habits. what I am writing truly disagreeable to today. with malice or with sorrow. either aloud or in a whisper. it is already too late. Corps de garde . could now no longer see vivid colours on a large scale. His sparkhng palette turned to plaster from model with care. It is new ideas with which it has as now been say things like this M. Even without the catalogue's explanations (Predication maronite dans le Liban. and nothing is more dangerous in the practice of the arts than to be always putting off indispensable studies until the next day. Diaz's lively personahty. Bida's works above is aU is the intimate expression of his faces. Bida. with M.

I allowed an energy equal to translate the poets who feels in himself maidens. he has his originaHty. sinister. should really have seen these two vigorous drawings in order to understand that he alone may be do not believe that the assured pencil which has drawn this sabbath and this slaughter could ever abandon itself to the silly melancholy of young to theirs. HISTORY. FANTASY 267 d'Arnautes au Caire). invincible and invul- nerable. If I established ^Bida's La Priere was repro. and that he has thrust far from him all the in relief. Illustr. His sojourn in the eternal quenched his mental powers—which. after all. Chifflart's two drawings {Faust au combat and Faust au sabhat^^) for their excess of darkness and gloom. where it is described as a drawing. these two territories are too restricted to contain his free and supple fancy.. 29. Marguerite. But only humiliates those justly one their style 1 is truly fine and imposing. either of which was indistinguishable from a pianist about to pour forth his private sorrows upon the ivory keys—the good Ary Scheffer. floats in mid-air and stands out pang of remorse. See pi. that they alone die there who are too weak to Hve there. Everyrebukes M. with their swords held high.RELIGION. and one more Faust in the form of his Christ.24 I mean. I count it to M.^^ M. The painter who never tired of doing just one more Christ in the form of his Faust. vol. upon the immense. unforgettable figure. what a miracle!. Chifflart won the grand prix de Rome. Chifflart's greatest credit that he has treated these poetic subjects heroically and dramatically. only goes to prove one thing: namely. p. ^ He had died the previous year. and that the 'school' city has not who are dedicated to humility. above all in drawings of such complexity. ^ Both lithographed by Alfred Bahuet. pale moon. Among the younger reputations. Fromentin. and. one of the most solidly is that of M. any experienced eye would easily guess the differences. 21. a long. are plunging at the gaUop through the storm of war. like a disk of the accepted trappings of melancholy. . What a dream of chaos Mephisto and his friend Faust. 34 (1859). He is neither precisely a landscape nor a genre painter.

I catch myself envying the lot of those men who are lying outstretched amid their azure shades. Eugene Delacroix. express. It is not only with gorgeous triviahties of a degenerate nature. made us dream of the art of in love. and which he possesses to an eminent degree. 72-^ above. But a faculty which is certainly not feminine. which soon condenses into desires and regrets. But what ^ In April. but above all widi that patrician gravity Pheidias and of Homeric grandeurs. which is so rare among us. many is and his soul and most poetic that I know. which is properly so called. neither waking nor sleeping.268 said of THE SALON OF 1859 him that he is a teller of travellers' tales. 1845. judicious. and well-controlled. only love of repose ness inspired it is not diffiwith which he loves the grandeurs of the patriarchal life. only pour the sweetness and repose of evidently derives from we find that expert It is ecstasy rather than fanatibe presumed that I myself am sufiFering to some extent from a nostalgia which drags me towards the sun. It is to and the feeling of a bfissful happiby an immensity of light. for I find an intoxicating mist arising from these luminous canvases. which cast a kind of tropical madness into certain brains. powerful. Fromentin's mind has something of the feminine about it— just enough to add a grace to his strength. Therefore cult to understand the passion fabrics or with curiously-wrought arms that his eyes are and dandyism which mark the chiefs of powerful tribes. if anything at contemplation into his soul. But light and heat. See pp. M. nor the interest with which he observes those men among whom some trace of an antique heroism stiU remains. for there are neither poetry nor soul. even in their state of decadence. cism. With him too and innate understanding of colour. is the object . and whose eyes. and of tracking out beauty wherever it may have sHpped in between the aU. His travellers with one of the rarest painting. I should not be saying enough. is that of snatching up the particles of beauty which He scattered over the face of the earth. who. We had the same sensation some fourteen years ago when the painter Catlings brought us his North American Indians. shaking them with an unappeasable frenzy and driving them to unknown dances.

^ Now in the Brussels Museum. soHdity. Les to cede one half of his immortality to his la Guerre!^'^ Manx de what a Think of the conquered prisoner with his brutal conqueror lunging ^ The first of these was published in 1857. and marked with the same qualities and the same retrospective passion. HISTORY. no less preciously wrought. the second in 1859. Practi- same painter. it is said that a warm friendship unites them. Fromentin tells his travellers' tales twice over. which sometimes shows a subtlety of wit which is almost human. M. 26. Not far from them were hanging some other exquisite pictures. some excellent little pictures of a rich and intense colour but of a meticulous finish. whose costumes and figures reflected a curious love of the past. more very gain.Arts. This change of a letter is like one of those intelligent sports of Chance. See pi. in a which is his alone. For in order to achieve a possible loss. 293. p. Lies has taken his bow this year v^dthout his Pollux. FANTASY of dwelling 269 on this subject? why explain what M. will M. we should have to resign ourselves to a great seeing. vol. But have they for that reason been raised to the dignity of the Dioscures? In order to enjoy one of them. Un ete dans le Sahara and Le Sahel?^^ Everyone knows that M. at the 1855 Exhibition. Of Fromentin's exhibits this year. Leys pay us a visit next without his Castor? The comparison is all the more legitimate in that M. more vigour to the other. 1859. II. Leys was. these bore the cally the We remember name 'Leys'. Une rue d. these charming canvases were signed with the name 'Lies'. was Pollux too title 1 who wanted brother. . that he writes them as well as painting them. the teacher of his friend. and it I believe. One is the pupil of the other. in the Gazette des Beaux. Fromentin has himself so well explained in his two charming books. Fromentin has succeeded both as writer and style and both his written and his painted works have such charm that if one were given permission to prune and to cut back some of the shoots of the one in order to give as artist. practically the same name. El-Aghouat was repro.RELIGION. The old masters also love to have a foot in both camps and to use twin tools to express their thought. it would be really difficult to choose. must we be deprived of the other? M.

the immediate impression that the eye is series of his fated to receive as able. harshly and indiscriminately buffeting the young. Observe too that this annoying effect is only reinforced by the general brightness of the colours. if furniture of ancient times. and he has done it in such a way that each of these characters has the appearance of a leaded fragment of a stained glass window. monotonously bright. Lies has put a black line not only around the general contour of his figures. Lies. think of the disordered bundles of loot. enquiring. I have nevertheless two criticisms to make to M. it falls upon this picture is the disagree- uneasy impression of a piece of trellis-work. the sturdy cavalryman with I believe. all the most honourable and courteous epithets which can be applied to poetry of the second rank— to poetry which just fails of being nakedly great and simple. in step with their scrawny captain. He has the minuteness. I was en- chanted by his Tetite Danse Macabre. M. the camp-follower. half dancing. who had the authority of the Prince and of the Church to accom- pany the army. but might be—that painted jade of the middle ages. but I do not think that I have seen anything in all the long works which is more dramatically composed. assiduous mind. misery and dejection. impressionable and enquiring. Penguilly is also in love with the past. His ingenious. that whole world of blood. but it is singularly active. First. seems to quiver. a truly poetic picture. who. half dragging themselves along. easily not present. Add. In the second place. the rav- ished maidens. I shall metal and the cutting-edge of a razor. which reminded me of a band of belated drunkards. tiie weak and the infirm: all this was bound of necessity to produce a thrilling. His works are wrought like the weapons and the M. is an you will. but also around every detail of their accoutrement. His painting has the polish of tion. At first the mind harks back towards Callot. his colour. I . the burning patience and the neatness of the antiquarian. As for his imaginanot say that it is positively great.2/0 after THE SALON OF 1859 him. just like the Canadian courtesan who accompanied tiiose other warriors in their beaver-skins— and finally the waggons. his light is too generally spread out— or rather squandered. is his shaggy red hair.

a journal ia which every member of the staff is as universal and encyclopedic in his knowledge as the citizens of ancient Rome. in which the grotesque and the horrible entwined themselves in a kind of mad. Or perhaps it is charity which exhorts us to avoid anything which may distress our fellows— but this is extremely unlikely! Towards the end of last year a publisher in the rue Royale put on sale a prayer-book of a very choice type. ^® Moliere. as being no longer to the taste of this age. In this vast monument of fatuity. Le mauvais gout du siecle en cela me fait peur. if he had wished to conform entirely to the taste of the said age. FANTASY 2/1 beg you to look carefully at each of the little grisailles which serve the principal composition both as frame and commentary. my dear M— his reason? It . the fine arts. in such a way as to give a rare unity of style to the whole. as they do still. economics. there is one very honest man who does not want us to admire M. Act I. doubtless drafted by the publisher himself. according to the note. which leans towards the future like the tower of Pisa. HISTORY. the greatest care had been taken to avoid reproducing these. 'to such an enlightened taste'. And his reason.^^ There is a worthy pubHcation^^ in which every contributor knows all and has a word to say about all. eternal game. Siecle. There is not one of them which is not an excellent little pictme in itself. ^This was Le Louis Jordan. and can instruct us turn and turn about in politics. and the advertisements published in the newspapers informed us that all the vignettes which framed the text had been copied from ancient works of the same period. Misanthrope. the critic referred to below was called . philosophy and literature. Modem artists are far too neglectful of those magnificent allegories of the middle ages. See Appendix. Penguilly. and in which nothing less than the happiness of the human kind is being worked out. religion.RELIGION. Perhaps our nerves have now become too delicate to endure a symbol which is too plainly forbidding. he should have added. They went on to say that a unique exception had been made with respect to the macabre figures.

a very dogged work. I presimie. in a thankless and ill-appreciated genre. Leighton's picture—he was the only EngHsh artist. violent in colour and choice in finish. meticulous painting.JQ. In conclusion. if you have time to return to the Salon. 1 . a cloud. he knows how make a great gesture in a small space. wdthout drawing your attention more particularly to his Petites Mouettes. Penguilly's mind is devoid of poetry.^^ This is a rich. a plague of white birds— and solitude! Reflect on that. Surely these words do not refer to M. but as scenes acted with the necessary exaggeration. . This artist. an avalanche. and finds her apparently lifeless. which is excessively picturesque and varied? This thinker must have meant that he did not like a painter who treated all his subjects in the same style. the two rocky boulders which form a door open upon the infinite (you must know that the infinite seems all the more immense the more it is restricted). then? I do not want to leave this agreeable artist. for our friends scenes. but dramatic. to be punctual for his appointment: it is called Count Paris comes to the house of the Capulets to claim his bride Juliet. a multitude. sum up in to a word. rhe- from across the Charmel do not paint theatrical subjects as though they were real torical even. Leighton had one other painting at the Salon in 1859. all of whose pictures are equally interesting this year. THE SALON OF 1859 is is because there a tedious monotony in his work. and this fault. the intense blue of the sky and the water.9. Before concluding this chapter I would also direct your eye to M. displays surprising qualities— those of a true painter. confers upon their works an element of strange and paradoxical beauty. my dear M— and then tell me if you think that M. ^ Exhibited the previous year at the Royal Academy. if it be one. Penguilly's imagination. Marc Baud. But Good Heavens! it is his own style Do you want him to change it. he paints richly precisely where so others spread out their poor colours To many meanly. do not forget to look at the enamel-paintings of M.

A portrait! what could be simpler and more comphcated. for example? in painting is my soul—my soul which so visible. eternal Esquimau. would be able to hghteni The more positive and soHd the thing appears to be. still stuffed with all the false reasoning of the mortal and perishable flesh— I. our poets are singularly is to claim that imagination necessary in all the func- tions of art. I were not afraid of indehbly staining the hangings of my cell. whose eyes not aU the visions of Damascus. What need is there of imagination in painting a portrait. be silent! Hyperborean brute of ancient days. artist's who consent to do the bulk of the work. and in reality it is I. and with a vigour that she does not suspect listen to me of possessing! Just who mad is what she said to me today. the whole thing!' To which laborious would he have been able to compose his Caracteres. the salon and the omnibus. the model. or rather be-scaled. and beheve me. am 'Caput mortuum. not all the thunders and Hghtnings of the heavens. be-spectacled. like one of those who knelt alone and wrangled with that too. the more subtle and I reply: is the work of the imagination. with phantasms of the daylight. I myself. of me the Soul of the Bourgeoisie. so clear. so well-known? I pose. and presented itself so obhgingly to him? And however restricted one may . Nevertheless. more obvious and more profound? If La Bruyere had had no imagination. I would gladly fling my ink-stand in her face. whose raw-material was nevertheless so obvious. all I am the true supplier. nor that a Hon would do me the honour of serving me as grave-digger or undertaker. incorrigible death's- head. with spectres of the street. that wretched Soul no hallucination: In truth. in the Thebaid my brain has made for itself. by myself. sometimes dispute with groI see in front if tesque monsters.PORTRAITURE 2/3 vn PORTRAITURE I it DO NOT imagine that the birds of the air would ever make their business to provide for the expenses of my table. I too.

portrait. but not a culpable procedure. whose duty it is to adopt any character and any costume. Reynolds and Gerard added an element of romance. . which unfortunately demands genius. in all his portraits—have often aimed at expressing the character which they undertook to paint. There you have a dangerous. Great painters. my friend. decor even— all must combine to realize a character. both reasons are equally acceptable. widi sobriety but with intensity. I compared him just now to the historian. a languorous attitude. etc. that calls for The modest. as in many other human affairs. thus a stormy and troubled sky. I want to speak of the school of Ingres in general. Velasquez or Lawrence. or to do it differently. or rather. Finally. .274 THE SALON OF 1859 suppose some historical subject or other. grimace. but must also have guessed at what lay hidden. but always in accord v^th the natural disposition of the sitter. David. Others have sought to do more. . I am very much afraid that I am forced to lay hands on one of your idols. and I might also compare him to the actor. Whenever I see a good portrait. whether he be Holbein. and after he had become a chef cT Scale). Was it because of their incapacity to use them all? or was it in the hope of obtaining a greater intensity of expression? I do not know. and of his method as . excellent painters— David. just as he must not only have seen at once all that lay on the surface. If you will examine the matter closely. Others have wanted to restrict the means. or Holbein. a good portrait always seems to me to be like a dramatized biography. I can guess at all the artist's eflForts. No doubt the artist's submissiveness must be great. for example (both when he was just an 18th-century artist. an intrepid bearing. but his power of divination must be equally so. nothing in a portrait is a matter of indifference. light and airy backgrounds. what historian can flatter himself that he can paint and illumiruite it—without imagination?' type of painting which appears so an immense intelligence. clothing. Gesture. like the natural drama inherent in every man. At this point. poetic furnishings. whatever may be the means most visibly employed by the artist. or rather I should be incHned to believe that in this.

and in a penetrating manner. and that it has left a painful scar on French painting. only he claims that this sacrifice is a glorious and a useful one. was vigorously and carefully expressed. Ingres's pupils have very pointlessly retained a semblance of colour. I think that by suppressing M. or they prethe gainers. he has laid claim to an extraordinary and exceptional glory— that of extinguishing the sun. He has simply repudiated colour as a perilous display. Chenavard is incapable of denying all the advantages conferred upon laziness by a procedure which consists in expressing the form of an object without the variously-colomred light which clings to each of its molecules. in the eyes of some—which touches them more sharply. nevertheless offered some admirable specimens of modelling. I am bound to admit that I have seen a few portraits by MM. Lehmann makes some attempts to excuse the origin of his pictures by the admixture of alien ingredients. it is that . but determined to deny the utility of those which he does not possess. M. Flandrin and Amaury-Duval which. the master s disciples have undertaken to stamp them out. Chenavard is more couraof an art geous and more frank. But I ask you if it is playing fair to decrease the its difficulties some of parts. has turned out to seem more intelligible. emotional element. though falsely disguised as paintings. On the whole one might say that his teaching has been despotic. It is not to be denied that Nature. that they are painters. and that form and idea are both equally M. but it is obvious how much less beautiful and exciting she has become in the process. I will even admit that the visible character of these portraits.PORTRAITURE applied to the portrait in particular. They beheve. as expressed by these simplifiers. Not strictly all his 2/5 pupils have and humbly followed their master's precepts. Here is another charge— a commendation. M. Amaury-Duval courageously pushes the asceticism of the school to extremes. perhaps. A very stubborn man. But tend to beheve. Whereas M. save everything relating to colour and light. as a reprehensible. gifted with several precious faculties. and has put his trust in the simple pencil to express all the import of his idea. As for the few smoky embers that are still left to wander in space.

he knew him and studied him so well that he created him afresh and evoked him visibly. he always makes ready.' he says to himself. with a certain heaviness. Bonvin. picturesque and attractive. Heim. usually borrowed from the past. Ingres adds something to his model. It is an alien poetry. I shall leave nothing out. vvdth a Roman complacency. to be sure. M. Do you find this fault a slight one. And we know what he means by It is not the which must be extracted so that it may become more visible. but they are a trifle slender. I think that I am justified in concluding that if M. to transpose and to alter the beautiful. and not the devices of sophistication. the most outstanding are gives a vigorous and surprising vitality to and M. Those arms are of the purest curve and the most seductive contour—there is no doubt about it. in the portrait above all? Holbein knew Erasmus. Take that Parisian lady. to distort his model. or my criticism unmerited? Among those artists who are content with the natural picturesqueness of the original. M. a ravishing specimen of the butterfly graces of a French salon. who 1855. I shall express it it add to with care. But by what right does he add? It is the art of painting that should alone be borrowed from tradition.ZjQ THE SALON OF 1859 because I their portraits are not true likenesses. and who. as in his portraits. he wiU endow her naturally poetic quality of the subject. 'Beauty or grandeur. cease to call for the employment of the imagination and the introduction of poetry into all the functions of surely no one will suppose that I desire a conscientious alteration of the model. as each one of them sets to work. according to his dominant taste. style. it is because he is incapable of making it at once both great and true. 'Here we have a curious type. has revealed to us a marvellous understanding of the . Ingres finds a model that is fine. in spite of herself. His pupils do likewise.' 'style'. immortally and superlatively. and if they are to achieve the preconceived style. at whom some superficial critics have mocked in the past. Ingres is the victim of an obsession which relentlessly drives him to displace. but I shaU something which is indispensable: that is. Raphael demands it. Just never art. M. this year again. they require a certain measure of embonpoint—of the sap of matronhood.

am alluding to the natural and professional grimace which belongs to each one of us. and often even a proof of their superiority. At different times. as I did. and his grace. The second. while con- portraits. Nevertheless the virile and noble part of his mind was instincts. which is sometimes English. who is a very good painter. others by their dejects. has in addition all the Hterary qualities and the imagination needed to portray actresses worthily. For imitation is the intoxication of supple and brilliant minds. who follow the exhibitions atten- and who know to which of his earlier works I am referring. More than once. Formerly perhaps he made his models too pretty.'JJ a whole cavalcade of sketches. sometimes Italian. Besson's living and luminous desses. I presume you will not take this word in a disagreeable sense. artist to ing image. have found myself dreaming of all the grace and devotion which the artists of the 18th century put into the pictures which they have bequeathed us of their favourite god- templating I M. But such criticisms are just a Httle unfair. Ricard. because he has always remained a frank and genuine artist. which is passionately in love with its own it. Besson both know how to paint The first has not shown us anything of the kind but enthusiasts this year. The pubHc. Chaplin and M. is M. Ricard unites a very wide learning in the history of his art and a critical mind of great finesse. some by reason of their qualities. and yet I ought to add that in the portraits of which I am speaking. Rembrandt and Titian. will have noted their absence with regret. To his painter's which are altogether remarkable. knows no half-measures in its love for the whom it most wilHngly entrusts the task of depictAmongst all those who have managed to snatch this favour. A lack of soHdity in his painting has sometimes been noticed. . his taste for Van Dyck. various portrait-painters have caught the fashion. this particular fault may have been demanded by his model.PORTRAITURE human grimace in that I Q. M. have been exaggeratedly rebuked. portraits. the man who seems to me to have deserved it the most. M. there is not a single work of his in which we do not find evidence of all these quahties. tively.

The number of portraits painted by M. the brow with its helmet of heavy tresses.278 THE SALON OF 1859 quick to prevail. lady. I think that in a summary but sufficient manner I have explained why the portrait. gives such a mysterious appeal to the countenances of the young. in it which charity immediately reveals a reposeful character. Ricard is aheady very considerable. eye with its great velvet star! curves of this broad. This certainly is a model does not confer talent. a sweetness and a and warm. nobly ecstatic air which in human beings. If a beautiful The contour of the face. there is Take that portrait of an old no cowardly disguising of her age. but if I to deal with them all. O'Connell example— know how to paint a human head. but this one is as good as any. portrait both true J. promises us many others. and then—the most charming thing of all. youthful no less than in animals. and that strange. L. I should be obhged to go over the same ground again and again. for Many other artists— Mme. grace in health. the richness of these lips and the dazzling grain of the skin— all is carefully expressed. which is always on the alert and in pursuit. and the most difficult to paint— that touch of slyness which is always mingled with innocence. of her gaze which command confidence. He truly has an understanding which is always ready to grasp and depict the soul which poses in front of him. and the activity of this remarkable mind. The simpHcity of her attitude accords happily with that then consider his portrait of Mile. and candour in a countenance which is trembHng with life. and the deep heavens of this and great. But how few painters are masters of an execution which could better reahze the solidity of this pure and generous nature. But if you want to recognize energy in youth. with reference to this was quality or that defect— and we agreed at the beginning that I should content myself as far as possible with explain- . it is certain that at least it adds a charm to existing talent. the true portrait. It therefore only natural that have but few specimens to adduce. is is in fact so difficult to I practise. softlygolden colour which seems to me to have been specially made to convey the sweet thoughts of the evening. this genre which is apparently so modest.

these differences are very small. but in this triumph and predominance of an inferior genre. metaphor and allegory. Pupils of various masters. gence to inspire. is no artist. water and houses. Those artists who want to express nature minus the feelings which she inspires are submitting to an has entrusted it. I think. I see an obvious symptom of general degradation. through my own grace and favour. I wiU admit that our modem school of landscape-painters is singularly strong and skilful. it is not so of itself. It is true enough that all that universal order and harmony would lose none of the inspirational quality with which providence tract but in that case. that any landscape-painter who does not know how to convey a feeling by means of an assemblage of vegetable or mineral matter. vm LANDSCAPE AN assemblage of trees. through the idea or the feeling which I attach to it. If know very well that by a singular eflFort the human imagination can momentarily conceive of Nature without Man— can conceive of all the suggestive mass of the universe I dispersed throughout space without a contemplator to ex- from it comparison. mountains. It amounts to saying. this quality odd and is sort of operation which consists in killing the reflective within them.LANDSCAPE ing what 279 each may be regarded as the ideal. in this silly cult of a nature neither purged nor explained by imagination. is beautiful. and believe me. such as we call a landscape. they all of them paint remarkably well. Like everyone else. in respect of class of painting. but through me. but prevails today. and almost all of . We shall doubtless seize upon several differences in practical skiU between this and that landscape-painter. the disaster that for the majority of them this operation has nothing sentient man odd nor painful about it at aUl Such is the school which and for a long time has prevailed. in default of an intelliwould be as though it did not exist at all.

^ Belly. his Femme faisant paitre sa vache is now in the Bourg Museum.. 'Behold. to do more. it has to be composed. p. rather ^ ^ ' * ^ he makes a show and glory Illustr. it is true— and he says to us. Daubigny^ wishes. five exhibits. Millet^ seeks. but lack the quality which distinguishes him. Some of them go even further.2 Leroux.^ Breton.. believing that they are copying a poem. lacks soHdity. M. otherwise ingenious and charming.' The technical superiority shown by MM. I know that M.. a landscape. vol. They immediately convey to the spectator's soul the original feeling in which they are steeped. 388. Un lac en pi. that M. Frangais^ shows us a tree— an enormous. It is style. But it seems that M. Many a picture of his. 20. however. Most of the error to which drew attention at the beginning of this study. and is able. vol. they open a vmidow. But a poem can never be copied. See pi. only serves to make the universal lacuna more visible and more distressing. They take the dictionary of art for art itself. ancient tree. Thus. it. 1859). It has the grace. Chintreuil. His 34 33 ( ( 1859). especially. Les Graves au bord de la mer. but also the flabbiness and impermanence. 37. poetic. " Millet's sole exhibit. d Villerville is in the Marseilles Museum and Les Bords de I'Oise in the Bordeaux Museum. of secret. 33. sky and house— assumes for them the value of a ready-made poem. His landscapes have a grace and a freshness which fascinate the eye at once. etc. of an improvisaBefore all else.28o THE SALON OF 1859 forget that a natural view has no value artist them them immediate feeHng that an fall into can put into I beyond the it. and the whole space contained in the rectangle of that window— trees. we must record to M. he makes no But part of His Soleil couchant repro. Daubigny's credit the fact that his works are generally tion. Anastasi. Daubigny has only been able to obtain this quahty at the expense of finish and of perfection in detail. they copy a word from the dictionary. See His Rappel des glaneuses is now in the Louvre. others and v^th all their faults I prefer them to many which are more perfect. Of Daubigny's . 23. p. In their eyes a study is a picture. Tyrol repro. See pi. Illustr.

while this man to takes much more than is his. M. He has a soul—I grant that— so. Troyon. and by his unfailing. In their monotonous ugliness. For 'style' has been his disaster. Rousseau and Corot. Troyon painted with the same assurance. beast but the lion takes the lion s When any other there their share for I itself. out by The two men who have always been marked of landscape are public opinion as the most important in the special field MM. he deserved it. one's glance of all attracted M. They display a kind of dark and fatal boorishness which makes me want to hate them. we who make it we are exercising a priestly functionl' Instead of simply distilling the natural poetry of his subject. melancholy and Raphaelesque. look at his popularity! but it is a soul too much within the reach of all other souls. His peasants are pedants who have too high an opinion of themselves. Troyon is the finest towards him. While still a young man. the same skiU and the same insensitivity. by the 'directness of his playing'. Millet wants to add something to it at any price. Ingres's pupils him. aU these pariahs have a pretentiousness which is philosophic. The encroachment of these second-class talents cannot take place vdthout injustices being created. I must be careful not mention names. Millet's painting spoils all the fine qualities is first by which soul. whether they are grazing or shearing their animals. as one says of an actor.LANDSCAPE the ridicule which I directed against sticks to z8l M. mean that among those second-class talents art. moderate and continual merit. Long years ago he had already amazed us by the soundness of his craftsmanship. Whether they are reaping or sowing. who are successfully cultivating an inferior branch of all there are several find it who odd are worth every bit of M. and who may that is that they do not obtain their due. *We are the poor it is and disinherited fertile! of this earth—but We are accomplishing a mission. cannot fail to be some modest creatures who find modest portions much too much reduced. M. the victims would perhaps feel them- selves no less outraged than the encroacher. With artists of . tiiey always seem to be saying. This disastrous element in little M. example of skill without And With a soul-less public.

Rousseau's manner of working is complicated. prevents this serious which from dazzling and astonishing us. he does enchant—little by little. tlie Macbeth (Wallace Collection) and the Idylle ( Lille Museum ) See pi. is upsetting to the physical anatomy of objects. becomes a sufficient all and a perfect picture planet is in his loving eyes. M.282 THE SALON OF 1859 such eminence one must be full of reserve and respect. 40. seven exhibits were the Dante and Virgil (Boston Museum). Corot's . However inadequate and even unjust this expression his absolute antithesis. M. Corot. for with him there is no glaring briUiance. Few men have had a sincere love for Kght. who observes the proportional value of each detail within the whole. Rousseau— who. M. and (if I may be allowed to comI may be. but you have to know how to penetrate 4nto the science of his art. Among . But even us forget the charm which he can put into this fragment torn oxn: from If not always enough to for make '^ the absence of construction in his pictures. A gHstening marsh. the only one left. Rousseau seems devils is man who is tormented by several and does not know which to heed. but he has sometimes exhausted me too. full of tricks and second thoughts. He does astonish— I freely admit—but slowly. perpetually restless and throbbing v^dth life— if like a M. which sparkles as it is tossed about. but everywhere an infalHble strictness of harmony. he takes a simple study for a composition. And then he falls into that famous modem fault which is bom of a blind love of nature and nothing but nature. But the general silhouette of his forms is often difficult to grasp. His luminous haze. 35. perhaps. Rousseau has always dazzled. a rugged tree-trunk. who has retained a deep feeling for construction.^ who has the devil too seldom within him. or have rendered it better. he is one of the rare ones. More than that. teeming with damp grasses and dappled with luminous patches. See pi. is aU his occasional incomplete- ness. M. a cottage with a flowery thatch. in short a Httle scrap of nature. chose it as approximately giving the reason artist pare the composition of a landscape to that of the human frame) the only one who always knows where to place the ' ^ Rousseau exhibited five landscapes this year.

LavieiUe. . with a road disappearing into it. Corot draws in a summary and broad manner.LANDSCAPE 283 bones and what dimensions to give them. is more concerned with what establishes harmony than with what emphasizes contrast. luminous and methodical. There quite a simple landscape of his. We have heard this eminent artist criticized because his colour is somewhat too soft and his light is almost crepuscular. cerhe would have been that man. It might be said that for him all the Hght which floods the earth is everywhere dimmed by one or more degrees. to be chosen extracts from the joys of winter. sustained or restrained far from the seductions of the times. You feel. which is slowly burning down behind the innumerable mastheads of the leafless forest. cellence of his teaching. feels them better than M. His eye. which is the only way of making a rapid accumulation of a great quantity of precious raw-materials. Corot's merits one Among M. and even the most luminous Veroneses would often appear pale and grey if they were surrounded by certain modern paintings which are more garish than peasants' scarves. Not a few of the effects which he has often realized seem to me. but one which is both modest and harmonious. you guess that M. But no one. which is keen and judicious. Lavieille is the one is who has given me the greatest pleasure. must not forget the exwhich is sound. a cottage on the The skirts of a wood. M. gets lost amid an uproar of deafening or raucous shouts. The sound of a clear voice. it is well to remark that our exhibitions of painting are not favourable to the effect of good pictures— above all of those which are conceived and executed soundly and with moderation. which wears the sombrely pink and white livery of the fine days sad season. Of the numerous pupils whom he has shaped. If it had been granted to a single man to restrain the modem French its impertinent and tedious love of detail. For several years now our landscape-painters have been turning more frequently to the picturesque beauties of the I think. In the sadness of this landscape. But even school in tainly supposing that this criticism is not too unjust. snow's whiteness makes a pleasant contrast with the conflagration of the evening. however.

taken from the Arco di Parma. splendour and freshness. which is no longer in M. Isola Farnese and Castel Fusana. Paul Huet remains faithful to the tastes of His eight paintings of marine or rustic subjects. part in landscape being Here and there. —I mean tion's to my friend. It seems superfluous to detail the talents of so exalted an artist. Jadin. is solemn is evening. It contains qualities. of all this artist's usual which are those it is of energy addition reveals the perfect capturing a poetic impression.284 THE SALON OF 1859 draw towards their close. Allow me. for example. It pression of evening as the glorious and solidity. a great and free talent is the taste of the age. which is already so far behind us. which are poems of lightness. he has remained constant in his nature all his and his method. and of a . but what seems to me to be the more remarkable and praiseworthy in him is that the time that the taste for minuteness has been everywhere gaining ground step by step. artists of M. who should not have expected up to the present has too modestly conI whom fined his glory to the hovel and the first stable (this is now obvious). Nevertheless this year a consolation has come my way. is whom sculpture alone not enough. there appears the trace of a protest. for Roman religion The second M. are penetrating of aspect. who all all has produced so much. has sent a splendid view of Rome. there is an and elegiac thrill of pleasure which is known of winter as they irresistible to all lovers of solitary walks. There in this him we have a veteran of the old guard! (I can apply famiHar and grandiloquent expression to the debris of a fighting glory like Romanticism.) M. to serve for the decoration of a salon. to return once more to my obsession my feeling of regret when I see the imaginamore and more diminished. but in and realization of and melancholy imcity. His two landscapes. are veritable his youth. Paul Huet. and has continued to give is to compositions a character which little lovingly poetic. at long intervals. he hke those children whose turbulent blood and bounding ardour impel them to scale all heights in order to inscribe their names thereon. shot with bands of scarlet and blazing with splen- dour Hke the C16singer. a it falls upon the holy itself. from two it.

Later. Boudin. History of Impressionism See John York. has exhibited a good and careful picture: Le Pardon de sainte Anne Palud^). (New . Rewald reproduces one of Boudin's sky-studies. 1946. and would then have understood what they do not yet seem to understand— the gulf which separates a study from a picture. so rapidly and so faithfully sketched from the waves and the clouds (which are of all things the most inconstant and difficult to grasp. both in form and in colour). imagination certainly avoids landscape! I can understand how a mind which is absorbed in taking notes has no time to abandon itself to the prodigious reveries contained in the natural sights which confront the artists of their it. See pi. M. On the margin of each of these studies. He knows quite well that all this will have to be turned into a picture.^^ But M. these prodigious enchantments of air and water will be displayed for us in finished paintings. several the sea ' Now in the Museum at Le Havre. Vice for vice. I agree with him that excess in everything is better than meanness.LANDSCAPE native 2. 39. and he lays no claim to be offering his notes as pictures. who might plume himself on this devotion to his art. no doubt. their very trees more monumental. 38). Boudin (who. 8th October. they would have seen hundred pastel-studies. midday. the time and the wind: thus for example. evinces the greatest modesty in showing his curious collection. but he will never lay himself open to mockery on the score of littleness. If they had been with me recently in the studio of M. at Honfleur. Their waters are heavier and more solemn than elsewhere. their soKtude more silent. Museum of Modem Art. It is hardly necessary to point out the parallel with Constable's activities in the early 1820s. he has inscribed the date. improvised in front of and sky. " Baudelaire had recently met Boudin Rewald. but why does imagination avoid the landscape-painter's studio? Perhaps who it cultivate this genre are far too mistrustful memory. and adopt a method of immediate copy- ing because perfectly suits their laziness of mind. by means of the poetic impression recalled at will. Yes. Clesinger's rhetoric has often raised a laugh.8$ and austere melancholy. by the way. p.

I am not exaggerating. crumpled. at short texts to accompany one time a project that Baudelaire should write a collection of Meryon's etchings of it but unfortunately came to nothing. But I must take care not to allow the abundance of my pleasure to dictate a piece of advice to the world at large. I am ^ There was Paris. . versed in the humanities). By the sharpness. rolled or torn. It is rather an odd thing. Let him remember that man is never loth to see his who was weU to feUow (as was observed by Robespierre. the time and the wind. M. these horizons in mourning. It would really be too dangerous. pubKc has arrived is to imagine an equal enthusiasm for There military a lack not only of seascapes— such a poetic genre. the refinement and the assurance of his drawing. these firmaments of black or purple satin. all these depths and all these splendours rose to my brain like a heady drink or Hke the eloquence of opium. you by memory the accuracy of M. all these clouds. I have seen it. suspended and added one upon another. furnaces. Meryon^i Officer. and if he wants win a little popularity. let him take care not at that the solitude. moreover. did I think to complain of the absence of man. will you have ever had the time to be- come acquainted with be able to these meteorological beauties. these gaping verify Boudin's observations. these ferments of gloom. any more than to M. and you could guess the season. though I do not count as seascapes those dramas which are played at sea—but also of a I can only call the landscape of great cities. these immensities of green and pink.Z8Q THE SALON OF 1859 If North-West wind. Some years ago a strange and stalwart man— a Naval told— began a series of etched studies of the most picturesque views in Paris. In the end. while examining these liquid or aerial enchantments. or streaming with molten metal— in short. Boudiu himself. by which I mean that collection of grandeurs and beauties which results from a powerful agglomeration of men and monuments— the profound and complex charm of a capital city which has grown old and aged in the glories and genre which tribulations of life. Cover the inscription with your hand. but never once. with their fantastic and luminous forms.

1. Meryon's brain. with the addition of the adjective 'silencieux'. III). those limitless perspectives. who quoted it {Fantaisies. Crepet. only increased by the thought of all the drama they contain— he forgot not one of the complex elements which go to make up the painful and glorious decor of civilization. IV. applying their openwork architecture. as the only line of Wordsworth that he knew.LANDSCAPE 287 reminded us of the excellent etchers of the past. in his edition of the Curiosites esthetiques (p. Ville qu'un orage enveloppe!^^ But a cruel demon has touched M. pour se nourrir de I'idee. 19).^^ those their conglomerations obelisks of industry. in the first edition of that poem. *A I'Arc Hugo. again he will have found worthily depicted his— Mome Isis. couverte d'un voilel Araignee a I'immense toile. Wordsworth has a note to the effect that he had derived the phrase 'point as with silent finger' from Coleridge. His dawning glory and his labours were both suddenly cut short. those prodigies of scaffolding round buildings under repair. See Appendix. . The line occurs in Wordsworth's The Excursion ( Book VI. I have rarely seen the natural solemnity of an immense city more poetically reproduced. so paradoxically beautiful. charged with anger and spite. . Those majestic accumulations of stone. he must have been pleased. of spewing forth smoke against the firmament. And from that moment we have never ceased waiting anxiously for some ^ The phrase 'clochers montrant du doigt le del' ( italicized by Baudelaire) deserves a note. " Les Voix de Triomphe'. Vieiment les generations! . Ou. a mysterious madness has deranged those faculties which seemed as robust as they were brilliant. Ou se prennent les nations! Fontaine d'urnes obsedeel Mamelle sans cesse inondee. . upon architecture's solid body. 497-8) quotes an appreciative letter which Baudelaire received from the exiled interieures. Baudelaire probably had it from Gautier. that tumultuous sky. those spires Vhose fingers point to heaven'. If Victor Hugo has seen these excellent prints.

. although he is not en- dowed with a very decided originahty of manner. the sky and the desert terrify them. M. I am perhaps being unconsciously obedient to the customs of my youth. in spite of the necessary love which needs must fertilize the humblest fragment. from which everything which formerly seemed great now seems small. reflected in gloomy pools. my friend. which would have to be invented if it did not aheady existl I must confess in passing that. towering Ninevite constructions. water-colours. the other her patient enchantments. But surely our landscapepainters are far too herbivorous in their diet? They never willingly take their nourishment from ruins.288 THE SALON OF 1859 who in one fareartist. for gigantic bridges. have never seen. representing immobiHty in despair. staircases immense moun- from our planet to the skies. just as it plays a part in barbarian as I am! ^* On the whole my my own pleasureexamination of the Two of these were oil-paintings. haunts of dizzi- ness—for everything. that I can never regard choice of subject as a matter of indifference. the one pouring forth his explosive Hght. the remainder. I feel a longing for those great lakes. well to the ocean's solemn adventures in order to paint the gloomy majesty of this most disquieting In still regretting the landscape of Romanticism. Hlldeenormous brandt has given travel-albums. from the echoing ramparts of Scandinavia to the luminous countries of the ibis and the stork. As I run through these amusing always seems to me that I am I seeing again. and that. and even the landscape of Romance (which akeady existed in the 18th century). for tains. my imagination has ranged across thirtyeight^^ romantic countrysides. from the Fiord of Seraphitus to the point of Teneriffe. consoling news of this singular naval officer short day turned into a mighty and who bade of capitals. and apart from a small number of men such as Fromentin. in short. for castle keeps (yes. Stimulated by him. for crenellated abbeys. am recognizing what in fact You see. I hold that subject-matter plays a part in the artist's genius. The moon and the sun have taken it in turns to illimiine these scenes. I do not even stop at that!). that I it me a keen pleasure with his display of water-colours.

in which I find my dearest dreams artistically expressed and tragically concentrated! These things. for it is too obvious to mention that in poetry our poet is the king of landscape-painters.) I would rather return to the diorama. (I speak of his drawings^^ in Chinese ink. standing upright and solemn. whose brutal and enormous magic has the power to impose a genuine illusion upon mel I would rather go to the theatre and feast my eyes on the scenery. eternal Melancholy gazes at her august face in the waters of a pool as motionless as she is. because they are false. IX SCULPTURE At the heart gloom of an ancient library. 289 tion. just as mystery streams through the heavens. like a Pythagorean pedagogue. in the propitious which fosters and inspires lengthy thoughts. or the magnificent imagination which streams through the drawings of Victor Hugo. both saddened and charmed as he contemplates this great ^^ An excellent collection of these is to be seen at the Victor Hugo. sheltered beneath heavy shades. commands silence and. Paris. a finger placed his hps. bids you 'Hush!' with an authoritative gesture. those imperious phantoms whose divine forms shine forth in the half-light. liars. in the Place des Vosges. are infinitely closer to the truth. whereas the majority of our landscape-painters are precisely because they have neglected to fie. Harpocrates. of Catlin's savannahs and prairies wager they do not even know the name CatlinI)—let alone the supernatural beauty of Delacroix's landscapes. watch over your thoughts. Musee . few well-behaved or accompanied by a great idleness of imaginaNot one of them has been able to show me the (I'll natural charm. so simply expressed. assist at your labours and urge you to the sub- upon lime. And the passing dreamer. In the fold of a wood.SCULPTURE landscape-painters has only yielded a little talents. Apollo and the Muses.

in civilization— one of those cities which has grown old which harbour the most important archives of the universal Hfe— and your eyes are drawn upwards. terrato the imagination dream. cries out. 'Never'. the prodigious figure of Mourning. or else an anguish without respite. stand motionless figures. in our opinion. di- drowned in the flood of her tears and crushing the powdered remains of some famous man beneath her heavy desolation. my As you are hurrying towards the confessional. are languid from a sister 1' secret grief. those playful goddesses who sometimes presided over your life. ad sidera. your country even. But you are hardly Hkely to find these delightful surprises elsewhere but in the gardens of the past. larger than those who pass at their feet. to think of eternity! And at the corner of that flowery pathway which leads to the burial-place of those who are still dear to you. repeating . whose image is rejected by modern reason with the convulsive gesture of a deathshevelled. you tumble into a boudoir of greenery. the infinite beatitude which they so much desire.ago figure THE SALON OF 1859 whose limbs. prostrate. at the corners of the crossways.— and which contains. 'Always!'. teaches you that riches. upon which the furnace has bestowed spirit still Your sweeter the rosy sheen of life. for of the three excellent substances— bronze. for in the public are passing through a great city You squares. than the tongues of nurses. the last alone enjoys an almost exclusive popularity in our age— and very cotta and marble—which are available for the fulfilment of its sculptural unjustly so. though robust. you are halted by a gaunt and magnificent phantom who is cautiously raising the cover of his enormous tomb in order to implore you. charmed by the music of gushing waters. which man can only represent by mysterious adverbs such as 'Perhaps'. are pure frivoHties compared to that great Unknown which no one has named nor defined. glory. are displaying beneath alcoves of leafage the charms of their well-rounded limbs. agony. in the midst of that little chapel which is shaken by the clatter of the omnibus. a creature of passage. sursum. as some hope. where Venus and Hebe. 'Behold.

in the name of the past. a tool. three-dimensional object about which one can move freely. or they life and what sword. whither they ceaselessly aspired. even to the most mediocre works. was producing works which cause the civilized mind to marvel! It is an art in which the very thing which would rightly be counted as quality in painting can turn into a defect or a vice. Who could doubt that a powerful imagination is needed to fulfil such a magnificent programme? It is indeed a strange art. will disquiet and upset him. departing by that much from the pure idea of sculpture. the painter CatHn was aU but embroiled in a very dangerous quarrel between two of his native chiefs. whereas a painting. whose roots disappear into the darkness of time and which already. has become vdtai its emblem. the savage or the primitive man feels no indecision. the most unhappy or the vilest. a book. an art in which true perfection is by so much the more necessary as the means at its disposal—which are apparently more complete. because he did not understand this. in a dumb language. some of the others started to tease and reprove the sitter for allowing himself to be robbed of half his facel In the same . after he had painted a profile-portrait of one of them. what was the passion of their They brandish. the stone phantom takes possession of you for a few minutes and commands you. others indicate the earth from which they sprang. but are also more barbarous and childish —will always give a semblance of finish and perfection.SCULPTURE to 291 you the solemn legends of Glory. and. to think of things which are not of the earth. Some are pointing to the sky. War. a round. You wiU remember that. enveloped in atmosphere— the peasant. Faced with an object taken from nature and represented by sculpture—that is to say. a torch. that is to say a step taken in the direction of a more civilized art. We may observe at this point that the bas-relief is already a he. contemplate. a beggar or a banker. a lampada! Be you the most heedless of men. Such is the divine role of sculpture. Science and Martyrdom. like the natural object itself. in primitive ages. because of its immense pretensions and its paradoxical and abstractive nature.

1677— . it is capable of taking it for a good one. and the flickering transformed into Anger becomes calm. and our dilettantism can grandeur or in turn to every sort of We are capable of loving the mysterious sacerdotal art of ^ Egypt and Nineveh. severe. makes everything solemn— even movement. the sculptor of the 'Chevaux de Marly'. exact in thickness. which partakes of the hardness of the substance used. the art of and Greece— ( The reference is probably to Guillaume Coustou I 1746). true sculpture. The mediocre does not always appear contemptible to it. Coustou^ and a few others invested these motionless phantoms! with what a glance these pupil-less eyes! Just as lyric poetry makes everything noble— even passion. as well as a very perfect execution. But our taste is a accommodate itself frivoHty. Otherwise it will only produce the kind of marvellous object which dumbfounds the ape and the savage. and short of a statue's being aggressively wretched. where the divine aim is nearly always misunderstood and a trifling prettiness is indulgently substituted for grandeur. tenderness and faceted dream of painting is a soHd and stubborn meditation. beauty imprints itself indehbly on the memory. but a subHme for a bad one. never! In sculpture. Michelangelo. so sculpture. With what a prodigious power have Egypt. more than in any other medium.ZgZ THE SALON OF 1859 way monkeys have been known to be deceived by some magical painting of nature and to go round behind the picture in order to find the other side. Another result amateur ness of is is that even the eye of the true sometimes so wearied by the monotonous white- all these great dolls. it demands a very elevated spirituality. tolerant one. Upon everything which is human it bestows something of eternity. But if you tion will stop to think how many different types of perfec- must be brought together in order to achieve this austere magic. that it all their proportions its of height and abdicates authority. It is a result of the barbarous conditions which restrict sculpture that. you will not be surprised at the exhaustion and discouragement which often take possession of our minds as we hasten through these galleries of modern sculpture. Greece.

Franceschi has been accused of simply taking a recumbent figure by Michelangelo and standing it upright. a man who has the love of sculpture in his very bowels. . but then some other fragment completely spoils the statue. And so you will not be surprised to find me brief in my examination of this year's works. him Clesingerl Perhaps Hght. who has naturally a great span of life open before him. What an extraordinary man is this that. How thrilling is the slender thrust of this figure! but look at those draperies. is only conspicuous by its absence. It has the immense merit of being poetic. it is not given to everyone to imitate what is great. II. or rather a temperament. which are small in size though great in feeling. This is not true. p. are nevertheless tubular and twisted like macaronil ^ Repro. vol. you imagine an intelligence. Gazette des Beaux-Arts. Now. and the paradoxical elegance of these limbs are clearly the doing of a modern artist. Franceschi for his Andromdde. 369. like the pictures of the Roman patriots. The languor of these forms. as prodigious as a dream.SCULPTURE 293 at once so charming and so rational. this figure has given rise to several criticisms which in our opinion were too facile. and nothing more disagreeable than to criticize. exciting and noble. I would see in this a ground for praise rather than for criticism. the art of Michelangelo —as precise as a science. and M. and when. then. which is always on the alert. and the cleverness of the eighteenth century. It has been called a plagiarism. But even if he should have borrowed his inspiration from the past. You admire a marvellously well-executed fragment. But the great and cardinal faculty.^ While exciting general attention. which. 1859.such imitation is the doing of a young man. it gives the critic far more reason for hope than for find a we power feeling which are the inevitable results of a suspicion. to see such an easy production of works so varied. is the moment to thank M. which is bravura within Truth: but in sculpture all these different manifestations of of expression and a richness of deep imagination only too often lacking amongst us today. with the intention of seeming is the finest thing that you can say of M. Nothing is sweeter than to admire.

Estignard. so The beauty of style and of much praised in his busts of Roman seem ladies. Roman * Sabatier (pi. If Canova was sometimes charming. he never M. I would forgets muscles he often precious and rather not speak of his unhappy Sapphos. who were able to edit that Saint Sebastian is The a painstaking teaching with the aid of their own natural intelligence—it has nevertheless plunged others. Clesinger. and the Roman bull. ^ By J. and vigorous piece of sculpture. better. Look at that GauHsh woman^ for examplel The first shape that a woman of Gaul assumes in your mind is that of a figure of noble bearing. into the most amazing aberrations. a strapping daughter of the forests. It would that in his impetuous passion for his work. I should not be praised so magnificently for having created the image of an animal. for I know that he has frequently done much but even in his best- is distressed by his whereby the human face and human Hmbs aU have the banal finish and polish of wax cast in a mould. robust and supple of form. a very fine work: but like to if I it is really were M. but if it has profited some— those. was represented by Clesinger as a Three of Clesinger's exhibits. free. including one of his Sapphos. Clesinger sometimes which has been is achieves complete elegance. . M. 57) lady. His Taureau Romain has executed statues. however noble and superb that animal may have been. and is neglectful of a thing so important as the shifting planes of modelling. powerful. Baujault. method received well-deserved praise from everybody. whose voice was heard ^Mme. M. A sculptor of his cahbre ought to have other ambitions and to set his hand to the creation of other images than those of buUs. a wild and warlike woman. 56. the practised eye of abbreviation. Rude's teaching has had a great eflFect upon the school of our time. doubtless. facing pp. It makes one think at once of the painting of Ribera and of the harsh statuary of Spain. too docile.^ by a pupil of Rude. Just Becquet. it was certainly not thanks to this defect.294 If THE SALON OF 1859 catches movement. Clesinger (Paris 1900). character. B. 72.^ neither assured nor perfect. are repro. and 172.

am not at all sinrprised. and not being endowed with the necessary perspicacity to choose a fine one. But subject-matter has Httle importance. the found to have perished. is hollow. but this time in another form. and strength. he has copied the ugliest that he could find.SCULPTURE in the councils of the fatherland. The breast. 295 in the unfortunate But is object of which I am speaking. If you want theatrical to study the opposite of sculpture once again. like a 'Keepsake' Velleda. and of those landscapes with fortress. This statue has found praise. it is only because they are important in this one respect— that they serve to put on record one of the mind's greatest vices. look at those little two microcosms invented by M. anyway. I tion-tables. or by the manner is very essence of the art in which it is treated. hips. especially when we are concerned with works in which both imagination and ingenuity are otherwise to be found. these miniature processions. Butte: they represent. that ravaged by disease and a continuous poverty Can it be that the artist has sought to represent the decay and the exhaustion of a woman who has known no other nourishment but acorns? and has he confused his warrior-woman of ancient Gaul with a decrepit female Papuan? Let us look for a less ambitious explanation and simply assume that. having heard it frequently repeated that one must faithfully copy the model. I find it extremely unpleasant to have to write such things. I believe. legs— everything. I ought to stand have seen corpses like this on dissecin fact. which is a stubborn disobedience to the constituent rules of art. This little HlHputian world. and if I speak of them. when by its nature. The Tower of Babel and The Flood. these crowds which wind in and out among the rocky boulders. How could one conceive of quahties fine enough to counterbalance such an enormity of error? What healthy brain . with a perfect devotion. there a complete absence of all that constitutes beauty thighs. in reHef. of musical picture-clocks. of forty years. draw-bridge and the changing of the guard which may be seen in pastry-cooks' and toysellers' shops. put one simultaneously in mind of the reHef maps in the Marine Museum. doubtless because of its far-darting eye.

about the school and we recognized that amongst these subtle of waxwork shows in Paris. Butte. and that some of them. who has wanted to represent. a novel in verse. on the contrary. aid all the devices w^hich are alien to that in the case of M. apart from the fact that they are not all equally successful. their interlacings. * comwhich is motionless and fixed in paiutmobile and variable in sculpture as it is in a my dear M— . I would like to point out that there you have an entirely special kind of sculpture. whose faults. by their chaotic structure. beneath a luminous rain. and no matter how great the 'stage director's' talent. and that among the modems. vanish altogether beneath a Hquid firework display. the spectator's mind will be troubled and will start wondering if it has not had a somewhat similar impression from Curtius's^ waxworks. to confirm the said opinion (I refer particularly to those in which almost aU the figures are vertical). demanding an innumerable quantity we may observe that the ancients always confined such ventures to the bas-relief. a piece of sculpture mechanically activated. dmring the last half 18th century. it is natural to call to art. Yet even the most perfect among these groups are only so because they approach the closer to true sculpture. an inferior art on the whole. which are sometimes quite deliberate. one of 'grands hommes et gens de marque' at the Palais-Royal. it is an art which is completed by hydraulics. of the The popularizer . of the pointus. and another for *les criminels' on the Boulevard du Temple.zqQ the salon of 1859 could imagine without horror a painting in relief. a rhymeless ode. and so on? is When And the natural aim of an art its misunderstood. the figures create that general positional arabesque but as mountainous landscape. We have already spoken. even very great and clever sculptors have never attempted them widiout damage and danger to their art. would only serve. in a word. for. vast scenes of figures. He had two museums. The two essential conditions—unity of impression and totahty of effect— are grievously violated thereby. The vast and magnificent groups which adorn the gardens of Versailles are not a complete refutation of my opinion. on a small scale. by means of their leaning attitudes and ing. and because.

of what I have not seen. the gigantic ape. ® Repro. MdU she be able to resistP Such is the question which will engage the entire female public. Fremiet is ^Repro. Undoubtedly M. his low-hung quarters. the little horse is charming. but that is precisely where misfortune lies. Fremiet later made several variations on this subject. his Httle legs. his intelligent air. which naturally I have not seen) to eat a this is very much is the idea of a pointu. there were nevertheless one or two of some interest. But I find the owl perched upon his back just a Httle disturbing (for I suppose I have not read the catalogue). facing p. In sculpture too we find the same misfortunes. op. Fremiet tells me that I have no right to scrutinize the aims. Fremiet (Paris 1934 ) see also pp. seeing that M. Fremiet is a good sculptor. daring. at once more and less than a man. that has been known to betray a human appetite for woman. 297 all more or less tainted with disobedience pure art. Faure-Fremiet. So there. Why is not a crocodile. he who are to the idea of is clever. and I start to wonder why Minerva's bird of priapic curiosity. his and subtle.SCULPTURE spirits.^ Taken in himself. both soHd and spindly at the same time— everything marks him out as one of those humble beasts that have breeding. 67-70. 48. an excellent workman. . a tiger. both the animal and the woman will be equally well imitated and modelled. he searches for the striking and sometimes he finds it. his square muzzle. he has found his means of astonishing us! 'He is carrying her off.. His Orang-outang dragging a into a way from woman woocP (a is rejected work. examples are in the Nantes Museum and at Melbourne. or any other animal which liable woman? But that not the point! Be assured that no question of eating. But to tell the truth. such subjects are unworthy of so ripe a talent. effect. his thick mane. composed partly of terror sweep it to success. facing p. If M. for he often searches for it some Httle the natural road. and the jury has acted well in refusing this wretched melodrama. vdll and partly Nevertheless. or even to speak. . 82 in PhiHppe Faure-Fremiet. I will humbly fall back upon his Cheval de saltimbanque. but of rapel Now it is the ape alone. cit. A strange and complex feeling.

Fremiet or myself. Then notice the puppets which are hooked to his saddle. Life. OHva and Prouha skill of their art. . PigaUe and Francin. Fremiet's for foUy. who has gone off to game is of cards and a drink in a neighbouring tavern! Jmve a That the real title! MM. . and to this they devote their more or less concentrated faculties. then. de Mercey is a masterpiece of finesse. those mysterious marionettes? do they add nothing . from Manes to Shakespeare! But a bystander whom I pestered with my questions was pleased to inform me that I was looking for apples on a pear-tree' and that the statue simply represents a tumbler's horse What. So here we have the immortal philosophic ancontradiction the essentially human upon which. They have loved and studied CajQBeri. they are content to astonish us All the flexibility and more modest than by three of them have an evident sympathy with the hving sculpture of the 17th and 18th centuries. tithesis. from the beginning of time. Will or and patiently worked it out work represents human intelHgence carrying everywhere with it the idea of wisdom and the taste In the end I positively that M. That which represents General Bizot is one of the most military busts that I have seen. It remains to explain the function of the horse. all philosophy and all Hterature have turned. True enthusiasts have for long admired M. M. Everyone will have recently noticed M. Carrier may congratulate and compliment . in what particular do they increase its merit? Obviously this work should have been entitled A tumblers horse in the absence of the tumbler. . in the language of apocalypse. Puget. of that solemn owl. who. and M. in which life breathes and even the eyes sparkle. . new to the idea of the horse? In so far as it is simply a horse. the idea of wisdom represented by the owl leads me to deduce that the puppets embody the frivoHties of the world. may well symboHze Intelligence. Coustou. Carrier. OUva's vigorously-modelled busts. Houdon. are M. . from the tumultuous reigns of Ormuzd and Ahriman to the Reverend Matmin.298 THE SALON OF 1859 I should be placed upon Neptune's creation. Prouha's statue in the courtyard of the Louvre—it recalled the noble and courtly graces of the Renaissance.

The sculptor was very quick to understand all the mysterious and abstract beauty inherent in this scraggy carcass which the * i. Emile Hebert: see p. that the skeleton should be excluded from the realm of sculpture. generous and supple of form. You will remember. . harmony with relation to the total too And yet I will readily own that I hesitate to attach much importance to this observation. comporting and displaying itself with all the impudent clumsiness. shall we call it? although it is doubtfxil if the ladies and gentlemen of the bomrgeoisie would want it to decorate their boudoirs)— a kind of vignette in sculpture. This is a great error. Carrier's busts have caused me a pleasure quite keen enough to make me forget this entirely fleeting little impression. Like his favourite masters. that we have already spoken of Jamais last resort.e. Commerson and Paul de Kock which prompts them to see a thought in the fortuitous clash of any antithesis? However that may be. I perhaps M. But from then until the 18th century (the historical chmate of love and roses) we see the skeleton blossom and flourish in every subject in which it is allowed to make an entrance. Can it be a a motiveless whim. but one which nevertheless might make an excellent funereal decoration in a cemetery or a chapel. my friend. for M. We see it appear in the middle ages. or knew it but httle. if executed on a larger scale. It is generally held. with all the arrogance of the Idea without Art. and her body. like Rouge et Noir? Or et Toujours. spirit. I am not claiming that it is a fault to crumple a shirt or a cravat. Hebert^ has bowed to the taste of MM. 228 above. or to give a pleasant twist to the lapel of a coat. I he possesses energy and disorder and disarray in the am only referring to a lack of idea. perhaps because antiquity did not know it. he has made a charming piece of sculpture (chamber-sculpture. is resignedly submitting to the kiss of an immense skeleton. or discover the explanation of this riddling have not yet been able to title. is being lifted and swung up with a harmonious lightness.SCULPTURE himself. 299 though a slight excess of costume may perhaps be held to contrast unhappily with the vigorous and patient finish of his faces. A young girl. convulsed in ecstasy or in agony.

sardonic. the one of an altogether analo- gous nature. It is the Masque (Les Fleurs du Mai. my mask. I mean. Christophe is not one of those feeble artists whose imagination has been destroyed by Rude's positive and finicky teaching). now in the Tuileries. the moral of the fable— her real head. Hebert's skeleton is not. an actress's face. seen from the front. a kind of map of the human poem. Le XX). almost scientific kind of Grace. What at first had enchanted your eyes was but a mask— the universal mask. twisted out of position and in a swoon of agony and tears. But if you take a further step to the right or the left. a skeleton at all. serves to join this pretty. ing that the artist has tried to sidestep the as they say. your mask. And its so this sentimental. . all this is doubtless because the artist wanted above all to give expression to the vast and floating idea of total negation. the pretty fan which a clever hand uses to conceal its pain or remorse from the eyes of the world. Christophe has not exhibited two pieces of his composition. A light drapery. if in some parts it is still clothed with a parchment-Uke skin which adheres to its joints hke the membranes of a palmiped. and his phantom is full of nothingness. and if it is half enfolded and draped in an immense shroud which is raised here and there by its projecting articulations. This second^^ represents a naked woman. you will discover the secret of the allegory. took stand in its turn among the in- numerable other Graces which Art had already wrested from ignorant Nature. The pleasant occurrence of this macabre subject has made me regret that M. quite Florentine in the grandeur and vigour of her frame (for M. M. Nevertheless I am not suggestdifficulty. This work is all ^° A later version of this statue is subject of Baudelaire's poem. He has succeeded. If this redoubtable personage has here assumed the vague character of a phantom. the other more gracefully allegorical. cleansed and purified of the soil's defilement. she presents the spectator with a smiling and dainty face.300 THE SALON OF 1859 and which is itself flesh serves as clothing. a spectre or a lamia. conventional head to the robust bosom on which it seems to be resting. cleverly knotted. properly speaking.

seems to be vaguely searching in space for the delicious moment of her rendezvous. 301 The robust character of the body is in picturesque contrast to the mystical expression of an en- worldly idea. To cut matters short. in order to be fully realized. and this whole funereal conception takes its stand of the sabbath is which upon the pedestal of a sumptuous crinoline. Elle a la nonchalance et la desinvolture D'une coquette maigre aux ^ See pi. for all its charm I would not answer for it. and this would naturally increase the horror of the idea. and her gaze. which Time has eaten away. negress's face. the one pale and dull (to represent the skeleton). I can confidently predict it an immense success. XCVII). Her bust. which is no more than a pit of shadows. so much the less because. may I be allowed to quote a fragment of verse in which I have tried. which once was a beautiful woman. As for the other idea. If ever the artist should the dealers have this child of his brain. not to illustrate. her lipless and gumless smile. in the form of a small-scale bronze. Avec son gros bouquet. and surprise does not play a more is important part than agree to let permissible. de sa noble stature. and its unpopularity. like a withered bouquet from its cone. leaps coquettishly from her corsage. ^^ Alas! Les charmes de Thorretir nenivrent que les forts I^^ Imagine a great female skeleton revel. believe me. 58. son mouchoir et ses gants. . See Appendix. it needs two substances.SCULPTURE charm and tirely solidity. the other dark and shining (to render the clothing). this horrible thing. but to explain the subtle pleasure distilled by this figurine—rather in the manner that a careful reader scribbles with his pencil in the margin of his book? Fiere. airs extravagants. autant qu'un vivant. or for the solemn moment recorded on the invisible clock of the centuries. "^From Danse Macabre (Les Fleurs du Mai. all ready to set out for a With her flattened.

that we can stop here. without blushing. avec ta puissante grimace. David d'Angers . de fleurs artistement coiff^ Oscille mollement sur ses freles vertebres. Et son crane. P^^ 1 think. La ruche qui se joue au bord des clavicules. died in 1856.^^ I look around me in vain for the ethereal pleasures which I have so often had from the tumultuous. Qui ne comprennent pas. See Appendix. S'ecroule abondamment sur un pied sec que pince Un Soulier pomponne joli comme une fleur. a mon gout le plus cherl Viens-tu troubler. Comme un ruisseau lascif qui se frotte au rocher. very well. but I could only regard them as superfluous proofs in support of the principal idea which from the beginning has controlled my work— namely. I am one of those who can confess. that the most ingenious and the most patient of talents can in no wise do duty for a taste for grandeur and the sacred frenzy of the imagination. Defend pudiquement des lazzi ridicules Les funebres appas qu'elle tient a cacher. amants ivres de chair. fete de la vie . . exageree en sa royale ampleur. even if fragmentary. " The ^* earliest delaire's Dame published version of the opening stanzas of BauMacabre. that whatever the skill that is annually displayed by our sculptors. For some years past. L'elegance sans nom de I'humaine armature! Tu La reponds. nevertheless. people have been amusing themselves with more than allowable criticism of one of our dearest friends. grand squelette. Ses yeux profonds sont faits de vide et de tenebres. . my friend. since the death of David. dreams of Auguste Pr6ault. charme du neant follement attifel Aucuns t'appelleront une caricature. I might produce some new specimens.302 THE SALON OF 1859 Voit-on jamais au bal une taille plus mince? Sa robe.

and what. who are always restless and unsatisfied. they too will have found contempt and boredom the most difficult of emotions to deny—the most fatal. I never stop asking myself. spell the word end have been my clothed in their black skins. 'What is the good?'. I mean. can it serve?' Amongst the excellent ones (in this I numerous omissions of which I am guilty. I impose upon myself the same harsh conditions which I should like to see everyone else impose upon himself. of My those of expressing it. I ask myself 'Whom. like tiny Ethiopian dancers ready to execute the most engaging of 'character honourable friends the artists—I speak of true who agree with me that everything that is not perfection should hide its head.ENVOI 303 ENVOI At last the moment which has come to utter that irrepressible ouf! of relief is breathed with such joy by every simple mortal who is not devoid of spleen and has been condemned beginning. I have purposely neglected a crowd of obviously gifted artists who are too well-known to be praised. he can throw the very himself into the longed-for oasis of I will willingly From admit. to a forced march. If boredom and contempt can be regarded as emotions. Hke souls confined. They know as well as I do that nothing is more wearisome than to have to explain what everyone ought to know aheady. there are at the most only two or three am less strict than La Bruyere) —those artists. and that among the innumerable methods dances'. when at last rest. or not . the most ready to hand. artists. the blessed characters floating before which brain. some are deliberate. and that everything that is not sublime is useless and blameworthy. will not take amiss certain mocking thrusts and peevish quirks which they have to suffer as often as the critic does himself. and whenever I imagine that I have expounded a good argument. of those who know that there is an awesome profundity in the first idea that comes.

my dear M— it was quite unnecessary to explain what they all of them agree with us in thinking. The noble and excellent artists whom I was invoking a moment ago will say. as I do: 'To sum up. and having found it but sel- dom. I set myself the task of seeking Imagination throughout the Salon. I have only had to speak of As for the involuntary omissions or being a a small errors number I of men. I agree with everyone You see. which may have committed.304 THE SALON OF 1859 unusual enough. and in whose number I beg you to be so kind entrust the task of analysing next year's exhibition. a great deal of technique and skill. whom I . as man who. Your very devoted collaborator and friend. . anyone reason for comavenge and console him. My only consolation is that. either for good or for ill. the Muse of Painting will surely forgive me. to serve as a theme for criticism. by parading these commonplaces. nevertheless has the love of Painting in every fibre of his being. but precious little genius!' That is what everyone says. Alas then. witliout having made extended studies. Besides. as to include yourself. I hope with all my heart that he may find more subjects for wonder and amazement than I have conscientiously found. I may perhaps have been able to please two or three people who will guess that I am thinking of them. without counting that one of us to whom you will plaint will find innumerable allies to who may have some and you will grant the same liberties as you have been kind enough to accord to me.

"Tell me. my heart. can this be Love?' .

as far as I can remember). was published in the Opinion Nationale in three parts (2nd Sept. had the good fortune to be associated at a very early age with the illustrious deceased (from the year 1845. the reasons for his pre-eminence (which in my opinion is still not sufficiently recognized) and finally a few anecdotes and observations I upon his life and his character.. . enabled me to form the most accurate notions not only upon his method. You would not expect me. the history of his talent. from which my part and indulgence on his in no wise excluded mutual confidence and famiHarity. Let to it ^ This article. the if such a long one that even only a few Hnes each were to be allotted to his chief fill almost a whole be enough for us to confine ourselves here a brisk summary. reverence on but also upon the most intimate qualities of his great soul. of the Opinion Nationale to the genius of Once more and for the last time I wish to pay homage Eugene Delacroix. Quite apart from gradual degrees as the fact that each of us has aheady performed the task in accordance with his own powers and by fist is the great painter revealed to the pubHc the successive labours of his brain. when he preceded it with a short passage of introduction (see Crepet's ed. an analysis of this kind would volume. of L'Art Romantique). Baudelaire also used the article as a lecture in Brussels (2nd May 1864). His monumental paintings are there for all to see in the works. as briefly as possible.THE LIFE AND WORK OF EUGENE DELACROIXi To the Editor Sir. Delacroix had died on 13th August 1863. 1863). tailed analysis of the Sir. 14th and 22nd Nov. and this association. and I beg you to be so kind as to extend the hospitaHty of your journal to the following few pages in which I shall attempt to bring together. in the form of a long letter to the editor. to carry out here a de- works of Delacroix.

all of them belonging to the noblest realms of the intelligence. for the sake of peace and quiet. they can only be mistakes of omission. in 30/ des depu- du Roi'^ and the library^ at the Chambre du Luxembourg. As for his easel-pictures. and to try and define. (I am taking these figures from the catalogue which M. Theophile Silvestre has placed at the end of his excellent account of Eugene Delacroix in his Histoire des artistes mvantsJ) I myself have tried more than once to draw up this enormous catalogue. his grisailles. I believe. the reckoning amounts to an approximate total of two hundred and thirty-six. "1851-3: destroyed during the ^849-51. as far as the written word is capable of showing. what was the specialty^ with which Provithat ^833-7. If M. de Virmond. ^Published 1856: the catalogues were by L. his sketches. the characteristic quality of Delacroix's genius. in short. and finally.. 'in their original and consequential ramifications'. the library at the Palais The great subject-pictures exhibited at various Salons reach the number of seventy-seven. it would amount. I gave it up. therefore. his water-colours. Commune. etc. 1885) lists 1968 works in all. * 1840-6. while equalling them. religious and historical subjects. to seek to discover in it is what he differs from his illustrious ancestors. 250. both material and spiritual. Theophile Silvestre has made mistakes. ^Robaut {L'Oeuvre complet de Delacroix.^ These decorations comprehend an enormous mass of allegorical. n.^ but my patience was always exhausted by the incredible fecundity of the man.^ in the 'Galerie d'Apollon'^ at the Louvre. to a full understanding of the 'correspondances .EUGENE DELACROIX 'Salon tes. Sir. ® Oilman (p. that the is important thing for me to do here to search for. and finally to show. U838-47. and in the 'Salon de la Paix' at the Hotel de Ville. the magical art with whose help he has been able to translate the word by means of plastic images more vivid and more appropriate than those of any other creative artist of the same profession— to discover. 27) suggests that Baudelaire's italicizing of this word may reflect Swedenborg's and Balzac's use of it to denote a state of intuitive and immediate vision of aU things.

they yet used different means. the paradisal— one might almost say the afternoon colour of Veronese. expressed with an admirable vehemence and fervour what the others had translated but incompletely. the austere or the dramatic and strained severity of David. Delacroix. according as to prefer the prolific. by the coupling of these names which represent such differing qualities and methods. Flanders has Rubens. no doubt. or in what are is known as great machines. Delacroix? What role did he come into this world and what duty to perform? That is the first question that we must examine. Italy Raphael and Veronese. To the detriment of something else. But a keener mental eye will see at once that they are united by a common kinship. those that I have mentioned. a kind of brotherhood or cousinage which derives from their love of the great. at first glance. I shall be brief. None of these men is replaceable. What to play. and almost Kterary rhetoric of Lebrun. however. at drawn from their individual natures. Which is the greatest of these great men who much from one another? Each must decide as he whether his pleases. the mild dignity and eurhythmic order of Raphael. the last to come upon the scene. but that is not the question that we have to examine. radiant. David and Delacroix. the national. aiming. France has Lebrun. Many others apart from myself have gone out of their . have painted great machines. painted way most differ so suited to leave an eternal trace them in the upon the memory of mankind. A superficial mind may well be shocked. perhaps. almost jovial temperament urges him abundance of Rubens. the immense and the universal—a love which has always expressed itself in the kind of painting which is called 'decorative'. Many others. and I look for immediate conclusions. It may be.308 EUGENE DELACROIX historical de- dence had charged Eugene Delacroix in the velopment of painting. all of them. as they too had done? a like goal.

where perfection itself is imperfect— could only be secured at the price of an unavoidable sacrifice. It is. he has done it better than anyone else—he has done it with the perfection of a consummate painter. moreover. the gesture of man. with the eloquence of an impassioned musician. . is the most suggestive of aU painters. he is the whose works. and if it were permissible to deduce a philosophical proof from a simple material manifestation. But doubtless. all. with the exactitude of a subtle writer. one of the characteristic symptoms of the spiritual condition of our age that the arts aspire if not to take another's place. the dream. to the glory of our age. simply with contour.EUGENE DELACROIX way of to pontificate 309 be quite on the subject of the fatal consequences an essentially personal genius. these latter have never perfectly understood him. Sir. This very special and entirely new merit. please. which has permitted the artist to express. and this he has done— allow me. and with colour what one might term the atmosphere of the human drama. the impalpable. you could count many more men of letters than painters. to emphasize this point— with no other means but colour and contour. one had beHeved to be for ever buried in the dark Delacroix night of the past. To tell the blunt truth. or the state of the creator s soul—this utterly original merit has always earned him the support of all the poets. at least reciprocally to lend one another painter new powers. on this poor earth. the soul. and it may also possible. like a The achievement of Delacroix sometimes appears to me kind of mnemotechny of the grandeur and the native passion of universal man. else- where than in Heaven— that is to say. set one thinking the most and summon to the memory the greatest number of poetic thoughts and sentiments which. no matter how violent it may be. after that the finest expressions of genius. you will be asking what is this strange. even when chosen from among his secondary and inferior productions. the nerves. It is the invisible. I would ask you. to observe that amongst the crowd that assembled to pay him his last honours. mysterious quality which Delacroix. although once known. has interpreted better than anyone else. Sir.

sad specialists. poetry and science than in fact they show. Dante. But let us enter a Httle further. who for the most part are Httle more than illustrious or obscure daubers. at the same time as being a painter in love with his craft. Byron and Ariosto. . what do they know? what do they love? what ideas have they to express? Eugene Delacroix. possessing some the ability to manufacture academic figures. and that the general intellectual level of has singularly dropped? It artists would doubtless be unfair to look for philosophers. Virgil. Outside of their studios. old or young—mere artisans. His was of all minds the most open to every sort of idea and impression. A great reader. was a man of general education. The reading of the poets left him fuU of subHme. it is hardly necessary to mention. others fruit and others cattle. Racine and Ossian. However much he differed from his master Guerin both in method and in colour. into what one might call the teaching of the master— a teaching which. poets and scholars among the artists of the day. as opposed to the other artists of today. Eugene Delacroix loved and had the ability to paint everything. David Guerin and Girodet kindled their minds at the brazier of Homer. he inherited from the great Republican and Imperial school a love of the poets and a strangely impulsive spirit of rivalry with the written word. however. he was the most eclectic and the most impartial of voluptuaries. if you please. so to speak. the difference but slight. Delacroix was the soul-stirring translator of Shakespeare. The resemblance is important. but it would seem legitimate to demand from them a little more interest in rehgion. the Michelangelos and the Leonardos—not to speak of the Reynoldses— is already long past. and knew also how to appreciate every kind of talent. after all? Do we not that the age of the Raphaels.310 EUGENE DELACROIX And what know is so very surprising in that. swiftly-defined images—ready-made pictures.

and it means of expressing in the most visible way. . and the quality and with manufacturers of colours. less who was no a victim of the same obsessions. In spite of his admiration for the fiery phenomena of life. not essential that he should be armed in advance with all the most rapid It is means of translationF evident that in his eyes the imagination was the most precious gift. the most important faculty. He certainly had no need to stir the fire of his always-incandescent imagination. 210-9 above. and from the simultaneous contemplation of certain of them (as we had the opportunity of enjoying at the Exposition Universelle^ of 1855). but the day was never long enough for his study of the material means of expression. Now he used continually to say: 'Since I consider the impression transmitted to the artist by nature is it as the most important thing of all to translate. his lively interest in matters of chemistry. In this duahty of nature— let us observe in passing—we find the two signs which mark the most substantial geniuses who are scarce made to please those timorous. easily-satisfied souls who find su£Bcient nourishment in flabby. soft and imperfect works. In that respect he comes close to Leonardo da Vinci. but also from many a conversation that I had with him.EUGENE DELACROIX for of 3II me. but that this faculty remained impotent and sterile if it was not served by a resourceful skill which could follow it in its restless and tyrannical whims. reinforced with a formidable wiU— such was the man. m Delacroix was passionately coldly determined to seek the in love with passion. It is this never-ceasing preoccupation that seems to ex- plain his endless investigations into colour his conversations of colours. never will Eugene Delacroix be confounded among that ^ See pp. results not only from the successive contemplation aU his works. An immense passion.

Sir. almost at the dictation of the master:^ 'Nature is erly to understand the extent of but a dictionary. no element of art. to which those painters are particularly prone whose specialty brings them closer to what is called inanimate nature—landscape-painters. in adjusting those elements. that is so that the language of the dream may be translated as neatly as possible. they confer upon them a new physiognomy. about Nature. we chatted much about commonplaces—that is about and yet the simplest questions. w— anything but the a humblest servant of a unique and superior faculty. I must ask your permission to quote myself. but no one has ever thought of his sentence. The result is a great vice. But those who have no imagination just copy the dictionary. the vice of banality. Painters who are obedient to the imagination seek in their dictionary the elements which suit with their totally conception. they contain a few minor verbal discrepancies. you extract from it all the elements that compose a sentence or a narrative. with more or less of art. By dint of contemplating and copying. he kept on repeating. of which one man takes important. . their genealogy and their etymology—in brief. swift and greedy!) — to say. In dictionary as a composition. The first time that I saw M. that is lest anything ^The following two passages are quoted from Baudelaire's Salon de 1859. for example. however. I think the vastest (how the years slip by.312 EUGENE DELACROIX herd of vulgar artists and scribblers whose myopic intelligence takes shelter behind the vague and obscure word realism'. for example. for a paraphrase would not be the same thing as the words which I wrote on a former occasion. however. Propmeaning implied in this you should consider the numerous ordinary it you look for the meaning of words. Delacroix—it was in 1845. this and another that as the most If was—I should rather say. they forget to feel and think. if it should be very rapid. who generally consider it a triumph if they can contrive not to show their personalities. usages of a dictionary. 'For this great painter. Here. very neat execution is called for. in the poetic sense of the word.

It was Hke an expertly matched bouquet of flowers. glory and love. We can has an evident see that this great law of general harmony condemns colour. their garments—everything. orange and red inspire and express the ideas of joy. many instances of dazzling or raw even in the work of the most illustrious painters. which interior is essentially logical. all the figures. to which long practice has given an unquaHfiable sureness. its livery.EUGENE DELACROIX may be lost of the extraordinary vividness 313 which accompanied its conception. Everyone knows that yellow. their relative disposition. as meticulously 'With such a method. the broader must be its touch. if the artist's attention should even be directed to something so humble as the material cleanliness of his tools. the landscape or which provides them with horizon or backfact. but even of several fireworks set off on the same platform. but it is better that the individual touches should not be materially fused. seeing that every precaution tion both deft I must be taken to make his execu- and unerring/ might mention in passing that never have I seen a palette and deHcately prepared as that of Delacroix. There are paintings by Rubens which not only make one think of a coloured firework. Obviously a ground. Just as a dream inhabits its own proper. must wear its original colour. that is easily intelligible. for they wiU fuse naturally at a distance determined by the . In certain of with mathematics and music. richness. coloured atmosphere. in particular tone is is allotted to whichever part of a picture become the key and to govern the others. must serve to illuminate the general idea. It is obvious that the larger a picture. so to speak. 'And yet its most delicate operations are performed by means of a sentiment or perception. so a conception which has become a composition needs to move within a coloured setting which is peculiar to itself. but to there are thousands of different yellow or red atmospheres. and ist to a proportionate degree its and all the other colours wiU be affected logically by the atmosphere which aspects the art of the colourafifinity dominates.

is the result of several creations. Nevertheless I am convinced that what I have described is the surest method for men of rich imagination. so a harmoniously-conducted picture consists of a series of pictures superimposed on one another. as we see it. 1 have no fear that anyone may consider it absurd to suppose a single method to be applicable by a crowd of different individuals. It is clear that all these rules are more or less modi- fiable in accordance with the varying temperaments of artists. with certain passages completely finished. that they have assisted the birth of originality—would be infinitely more true. 'A good picture. And systems of prosody and rhetoric have never yet prevented originality from clearly emerging. For rhetoric or prosody are it is obvious that systems of no arbitrarily invented tyrarmies. You might compare this kind of work to a piece of purely manual labour— so much space to be covered in a given time— or to a long road divided into a great number of stages. not sketched but actually begun— that is to say. Colour will thus achieve a greater energy and freshness. it is finished with. Just as the creation. . the artist is delivered of his picture. On the other hand. but rather tiiey are collections of rules demanded by the very constitution of the spiritual being. I remember having seen in the studios of Paul Delaroche and Horace Vemet huge pictures. in which the preceding ones are always completed by the following. if an artist's divergences from the method in question are too great. As soon as each stage is reached. Consequently. and when the whole road has been run. should be brought into being like a world. while others were only indicated with a black or a white outline. which is a faithful equivalent of the dream which has begotten it. each new layer conferring greater reaHty upon the dream and raising it by one degree towards perfection. there is evidence that an abnormal and undue importance is being set upon some secondary element of art.314 law EUGENE DELACROIX of sympathy which has brought them together. the contrary—namely.

and they say. in order the better to characterize their error. All the faculties of the human soul must be subordinated to the imagination. Just as a good knowledge of the dictionary does not necessarily imply a knowledge of the art of composition. and just as the art of compoaesthetic. however— the "imaginatives"— say. nevertheless the man of imagination has generally tended to express himself in religious painting and in fantasy. supposing that I did not exist. and to project their reflection upon other minds. from a religious scene to the selves to the expression of distinct two quite most modest landscape. and so. visible universe sition does not itself imply a universal imagination. and their 'As a result of the ideas as clear as I similarities in method!). which puts them in requisition all at once. it is a sort of pasture which the imagination must digest and transform. so to speak. is it is clear that the vast family of artists—that to say. particularly concerning the concordant aspects of all the arts. or rather as they would be. laries resulting I 315 must pass over a whole crowd of corolfrom my principal formula in which is : contained. whose sense has not been properly defined. the imiverse without man. "I want to illuminate things with my mind." In other words. I propose to call them "positivists". which I have just been making have been able (but there are still so many things that I should have mentioned. There are those who call themselves "realists"— a word with a double meaning. But a great painter is perforce a good painter.EUGENE DELACROIX 'To be brief. because the the universal imagination embraces the understanding of all means of expression and the desire to acquire them. while landscape and the . The others." Although these two absolutely contrary methods could magnify or diminish any subject. "I want to represent things as they are. in same way a good painter need not be a great painter. of men who have devoted them- beauty— can be divided into camps. the entire formulary of the true and which may be expressed thus The whole is but a store-house of images and signs to which the imagination will give a relative place and value.

'^ And more recently still. are never without an echo in his mind. Hght and darkness in turn. 1861. but was by two other angels. . In him you have the model of the painter-poet. * The following passage is taken from an article published in the Revue Fantaisiste. 238-42 above. T remember seeing a Httle Annunciation by Delacroix in which the angel visiting Mary was not alone. and the effect was powerful and touching.' . Anguish and Splendour. if it be possible. All that there is of anguish in the Passion impassions him. Olympus and love. 15th Sept. He is indeed one of the rare elect. ^ See pp. the Christ in the Garden of Olives ("O my Father. out of superabundance. I said:^ and one so 'Never. when writing on the subject of the chapel of the Holy Angels at Saint-Sulpice (Heliodorus and last great labour. all that there is of splendour in the Chinrch casts its glory upon him.3l6 EUGENE DELACROIX type of painting called "genre" would appear to offer enormous opportunities to those whose minds are lazy and excitable only with difficulty ? 'The imagination of Delacroix! Never has it flinched . his stupidly criticized. I beHeve that he would willingly bestow his own natural magnificence upon the majesties of the Gospel itself. 246-7 above. The remainder of the article —little more than a description of the paintings— was published in L'Art Romantique as Teintures murales d'Eugene Delacroix a Saint-Sulpice. One of his youthful pictures. The heavens belong no less than hell. war. like the banks of glowing candles before a shrine. and the scope of his mind embraces before the arduous peaks of religion! to it. or in the Entry of the Crusaders. Jacob and the Angel). His imagination blazes with every flame and every shade of crimson. has Delacroix displayed a palette .See pp. not even in the Justice of Trajan. On his inspired canvases he pours blood. which ring forth escorted in ceremony of this celestial retinue so sublimely in religion. rehgion in its domain. let this cup pass from me") positively melts with feminine sensibility and poetic unction.

I have often heard people of that kind laying down a hierarchy of qualities which to me was absolutely unintelligible. I have heard them declare. it is is imperceptible for the majorit only the dialecticians of art that can discern clearly. or another a contour of a supernatural beauty.EUGENE DELACROIX 317 more splendidly or more scientifically supernatural. is superior to the faculty whose ® skill it is to colours. In clock. or Delacroix.^ their three dimensions. embryo? But that he should be ceaseperfecting and diligently sharpening his natural that he should extract new effects from them and its utmost limits—that foredoomed and worthy of praise. or possibly architects—have uttered the word "decadence" in connection with this last work. This is the moment to recall that the great masters. never a draughtsmanship more deliberately epic. to denote crass stupidity of " regularly used ia such a figurative one kind or another. relation to genius. text as originally printed in the Revue Fantaisiste . breadth all and height— for the world like savages and rustics. the public is like a slow-running Who among others in the ranks of the discerning does not first understand that the master's very all his picture contained lessly gifts. he only displays progress. that the faculty that enables one man to produce an exact contour. by layers. The only thing is that his original quahties were so forceful and so rich. for example. The prinis should himself drive his nature to is inevitable. colour has no power is The French word magon Although the sense. whether poets or painters. or worse still. are always several years Hugo their ahead of timid admirers. cipal characteristic of Delacroix's genius fact that precisely the he knows not decadence. that day-to-day progress ity. and they have left such a powerful impression upon even the most commonplace of minds. 1 spoke a moment ago of the remarks of certain brickBy this word I wish to characterize that class of heavy and boorish spirits (their number is legion) who appraise objects solely by their contour.^ make an enchanting assemblage of According to those people. I know very well that some people—bricklayers no doubt. length.

*A born draughtsman child) observes in nature. they would be deHghted to call me a "materialist". External nature does nothing more than provide the artist with a constantly-renewed opportunity of cultivating that seed. Strictly speaking there is neither fine nor colour in nature. the pleasures which spring from them are of different natures. which tions of L'Art is evidently correct in the context. . not mediumistic sense. to think.'^ It seems not to have occurred to those superficial minds that the two faculties can never be entirely separated. I am giving myself up to I a pleasure whose nature is far from a noble one. and that they are both of them the result of an original seed that has been carefully cultivated. It is man that creates line and colour. 'Line and colour both of them have the power to set one thinking and dreaming. but of a perfect equality and absolutely independent of the subject of the picture. a kind of alarum for the slumbering it is faculties. it is the collihappy marriage of two tones. elegance let He is learns thus to achieve in drawing. In neither case has nature been other than a pure excitant. They are twin abstractions which derive (I their equal status from their common origin. and character But now us imagine a child who destined to excel in that art which is called colour. and his own pleasure resulting therefrom. all edi- Romantique have contained the obvious misprint tlie 'contours' at this point. ' In the philosophical. reserving for themselves the aristocratic title of "spiritualists". reads 'couleurs'. am thinking of him as a whether at rest or in motion.3l8 to EUGENE DELACROIX dream. or to speak. It would seem that when contemplate the works of one of those men who are specifically called "colourists". certain undulations from which he derives a certain tiiriH of pleasure. and which he amuses himself in fixing by means of lines on paper. nothing but an incoherent heap of raw materials which the artist is invited to group together and put in order— a stimulant. stylishness. that will lead him towards department of sion or the the infinite science of tonal combinations. exaggerating or moderating their inflexions at his will.

there nothing—from the limbs of a martyr who is being flayed alive. away for you to be able to judge the more or less dramatic quality of of though a magical atmosphere has advanced towards you and already envelops you. the perfect coloinist. which has taken its place once and for all in your memory.EUGENE DELACROIX you with a thrill of 319 be its its *A picture by Delacroix will already have quickened supernatural pleasure even if it situated too far linear graces or subject. for its source elsewhere and far away from any material thought. This impression. So long as or a rake. need hardly The articles mentioned below by Baudelaire are included in the two volumes of Oeuvres Litteraires d'Eugene Delacroix (Paris 1923). nothing will be deducted feel as You from. 'But alas! what is the good of continually repeating these idle truths?' But perhaps. your readers will set much less I store upon all this rhetoric than upon the details which myself am impatient to give them concerning the person and the habits of our late-lamented genius. If it is otherwise with you. hght with tranquillity— this impression. Sir. . Whether voluptuous or awe-inspiring. to the body of a swooning nymph—that does not admit of a kind of pleasure in whose elements the subject-matter plays no part. I shall be forced to believe that you are either a butcher it cuts in space. which combines gloom with sweetness. that original pleasure. or added lies to. this figure will owe its entire charm to the arabesque which is it is skilfully drawn. IV It is Eugene Delacroix's writings^ above I all that reveal that I duaHty of nature which ^ have mentioned. A well-drawn figure fills you with a pleasure which is absolutely divorced from its subject. And when you come closer and analyse the subject. 'Let me reverse my example. is certain proof of the true.

I find quite terrifying. by nature always stormy and restless.' he used often to say. Nevertheless. his turbulence of composition and the magic of his colour— that would indeed have been a matter for astonishment. Would you believe it. Prud'hon and Charlet. Why look for what one already has almost to excess? and how can one fail to praise what seems rarer and more difficult to acquire? You will always observe the same phenomenon occurring with creative geniuses. it would be absurd to suppose that they were written easily or with the bold assurance of his brush. be had praised and magnified the qualities they painters or writers. 'The pen. At the time of the great struggle between the two schools. in their capacity as creators. La Fontaine and Boileau. as critics. whensoever they apply their faculties to criticism. those quahties which. his style. they need the most. but the necessity of writing a page gives me a sick headache!' It is this awkwardness. with its balanced and symmetrical melody. Ricourt) or in the Revue des Deux Mondes. and which form a kind croix of antithesis to those If they already possess in superabundance. only go to confirm that two-sidedness of great artists which drives them. but the which I am obliged to submit. to praise and to analyse more zestfully for approval. however sound. the Classic and the Romantic. I am conscious of the justness of my thought.320 remind you. Eugene Delawhich we admire pre-eminently in him—his violence and abruptness in gesture. whom a line of Malherbe. and others The Variations du Beau. will throw into long ecstasies. Sir. to . and other pieces pubHshed either in L'Artiste (whose proprietor at that time was M. EUGENE DELACROIX that many sagacity of his written opinions people were astonished at the and at the moderation of some finding this a matter for regret. simple souls were amazed to hear Eugene Delacroix ceaselessly extolling Racine. His feeling of confidence that he was writing what he really thought about a canvas was always balanced by his concern that he was not able to paint his thoughts upon the paper. need for order. the studies on Poussin. 'is not my tool. however compact of expression and intention we find the great painter's hterary fragments. however judicious. I could name a poet.

i. the moral significance of the episodes and actions which make up the ensemble of that wonderful picture— everything was there. and whose senis immovably centred'. which effectively stimulates meditation. Boston 1870. Let offer me you a curious example of this pregnant and poetic brevity. You might result of a concentration of the entire upon a given point. ^In the Conduct of Works. which the leader of American Transcendentalism applies to the conduct of life and the sphere of business. is he who seem surprising to you. 'The literary hero. for example. by the Way' (Prose 463).^ It appeared in La The various different conceptions of the flood. 'Considerations vol. says the transatlantic morahst. Like me. and the picture itself was minutely described in that delightful style. the relating to the flood should way in which the legends be interpreted.e.^ who. Emerson.Victor on the ceiling of the Galerie d'Apollon.EUGENE DELACROIX which results 321 plain certain slightly threadbare forms of cliches. unadorned prose seems to imitate the swift movements of thought. Now compare that vast highly-coloured. 'The hero is equally well say. It will therefore hardly tences are like gestures— Montesquieu. of many samples. Paul de Saint. The most manifest tomary concision and a kind of unobtrusive intensity— the cus- mental powers he who is immovably centred'. when I tell you that Delacroix had a very marked sympathy for concise and concentrated writers—for writers whose simple. can equally well be applied to the sphere of poetry and art. ' Life. 13th Sept. Presse. that may perhaps exwords— outworn even—which too often escaped this naturally discharacteristic of Delacroix's style is its tinguished pen. from lack of practice. has nevertheless a certain flavour of Seneca about him. But this maxim. in spite of his reputation as the leader of the wearisome Bostonian school. you must recently have read a very admirable and interesting study by M. 'The hero is he who is immovably centred'. the true writer. as witty as it is us so which the author has already shov^ni And yet all this will leave no more than a shadowy phantom in the memory— like something dimly seen through a telescope. . Sir. II. p. 1863.

322 EUGENE DELACROIX essay with the following few lines which. Sir. Vulcan. divinities are standing aside waters. to con- much more up a forceful and much better adapted even assuming that the picture which they summarize did not aheady exist. I am simply copying picture.' I tion a great be obHged to use his imaginadeal—to collaborate. Delacroix distributed to his when he invited them to inspect the work in ques- APOLLO VICTORIOUS OVER THE SERPENT PYTHON. The gods are wrathful to misshapen monsters. so to speak. foul products of the primeval slime. leaving the his quiver out to him. The waters of the flood are begiiming to run dry. The nymphs of the rivers and the streams have regained their reedy bed and their urn. the friends tion: programme which M. that my that the reader will is know admiration for the painter making me see visions in this . until the time comes for eternal Wisdom to repeople the soHtude of the universe. or it. with the author of the note. Meanwhile from the summit of the heavens Victory is flying down to crown Apollo the conqueror. and holding bodies of men and animals upon the mountain-tops. is unfolding her veil in the airs— a symbol of the triumph of Hght over darkness and the revolt of the still soiled by filth and debris. Minerva and Mercury leap forth to their destruction. But do you really think. in are jure my opinion. is driving the night and the foul mists before him. the god of fire. 'Mounted upon his chariot. and Iris. A few of the more timid and watching this combat between the gods and the elements. the bloody monster writhes as it breathes forth the last remnants of its life and impotent rage in a flaming cloud. they have taken up arms. his sister Diana flying at his heels Already transfixed by the shafts of the god of warmth and Hfe. the god has already shot a is portion of his arrows. Like Apollo. Hercules is crushing them with his club. while Boreas and the Zephyrs dry up the waters with their breath and sweeping them away with see the earth abandoned to finally dispel the clouds. the messenger of the gods.

A Ride on a Tiger (London 1954). who visited America and India. he really only thought of them as iconoclasts. ^ See p. despotism. and finally of a sort of personal kindness and tempered warmth which always accompanies genius. He was weU known through the two volumes of his correspondence which were published in 1834.^ Sceptical and aristocratic. in the though they all collaborated with an equal zeal French Revolution. dandyism. as of Stendhal. The botanist and traveller. and their survivors. ^ . who are writers by trade. craftiness. Eugene Delacroix never lost the traces of his revolu- tionary origin. he only knew passion and the supernatural through his forced intimacy with the world of dreams. It may be said of him. His father belonged to that race of strong men of whom we apostles knew the last in our childhood— half of Jean. are constrained to admire? Eugene Delacroix was politeness. There was even some- thing of Victor Jacquemont^ about him. and his Corps de garde marocain was somewhat damaged ^ at the Tuileries. or even simple courtiers. A hater of the masses.Jacques. soldiers. to write—sometimes even to dash off— very excellent books which even we. that he had a great dread of being made a fool of. His Richelieu disant la Messe was destroyed in the PalaisRoyal. of them fervent and the other half resolute disciples of Voltaire. and the acts of violence perpetrated ill-suited to upon several of his works in 1848^ were convert him to the political sentimentalism of our times. burning determination. See David Stacton.EUGENE DELACROIX matter? Tell me. as regards style. 244 above. adventurers. a curious mixture of scepticism. in 323 am I totally mistaken in pretending to discover here the evidence of aristocratic habits acquired good reading. (it is with a perfect integrity important to note) to the aims of Bonaparte. and of that rectitude of thought Vi^hich has enabled men of rank. two years after his death. whether all rallied Jacobins or Cordeliers.

In the same way. cautioned by the taste which is always inherent in genius. had left upon his nature seemed to have been borrowed above all from that class which is just as far removed from the Utopians as from the fanatics— I mean from the class of the polished sceptics. would be M. I know that the comparison is just a little offensive. It was only by seeking his company more assiduously that one could penetrate beneath the varnish. Merimee. the victors and the survivors. one of the great concerns of his conceal the rages of his heart and not to have the seeming of a * ^ man of genius. which This word is used in the Baudelaire's admiration for Merimee was not reciprocated. both in his outward appearance and in his manners. And so. who. the same icy mantle which cloaked a bashful sensitivity and a burning passion for the good and the beautiful. stemmed more from Voltaire than from Jean. that part was destined to disguise and excuse the other. I think. beneath the same hypocritical pretence of egotism. and therefore I should only wish it to be applied with an extreme discretion.^ with neither prejudices nor passions. There was much of the savage in Eugene Delacroix— this was in fact the most precious part of liis soul. and guess at the hidden comers of his soul. original. There was also much of the man of the world. His spirit of dominance. .^ There we find the same apparent. in the honorable acsobriety the hereditary marks which the 18th century ceptance of the word—of a perfect gentleman.Jacques. generally speaking. My comparison only relates therefore to the sense of prudence and the which characterized them both. life to It was. coldness.324 EUGENE DELACROIX manners and opinions. slightly affected. could never fall into such vulgar crudities. at first glance Eugene Delacroix simply gave the impression of an enlightened man. A man to whom one could compare him more justly. we find the same devotion to his private friends and his pet ideas. while Delacroix. the part which was entirely dedicated to the painting of his dreams and to the worship of his art. for there is a touch of the rebellious bourgeois wit in Jacquemont— a kind of churlish sarcasm which is just as Hkely to mystify the ministers of Brahma as those of Jesus Christ.

artistically Another feature of resemblance with Stendhal was conduct of his propensity for simple formulas. ^Giuseppe Ferrari (1811-76). although everything appears to change. de la Palisse. Ferrari. Like all men whose passion for method is all more intense as their ardent and sensitive temperaments seem to deflect them from it. the monster-balloon of per- whom I for my part and whom you. this On the whole. which serve as buckler and cuirass to the man whom genius hurls into an endless battle. shot through with a sarcastic pity. philosopher. And so the speaker who. Delacroix's opinions in political matters also? He believed that nothing changes. gave way to childish Utopian enthusiasms had very soon to suffer die effect of his bitter laugh.^ but which genius the does not despise. strong. who are The phrase une verite de la Palisse' means a stale truism. had almost entirely disappeared beneatii a thousand kindnesses. and that certain climacteric moments in the history of the nations wiU in- variably bring with (particularly in them analogous phenomena. simple and firm maxims.'' the subtle and learned author of the Histoire de la raison d'Etat.EUGENE DELACROIX was quite legitimate 32$ and even a part of his destiny. so perfectly famiHar with these arguments. His Histoire de la raison d'Etat was published in " Paris in 1860. and editor of Vice. because genius I is aUied with simplicity— the fatality of his mean sound. and if anyone was imprudent enough in his company to launch forth the great chimera of modem times. You might have called him a volcanic crater concealed behind bouquets of flowers. in M. and know how to assess talent even when it contradicts you. . brief maxims for the proper life. Sir. his thinking in matters of its kind came very close resigna- attitude of cold and sorrowful tion) to the thinking of a historian of have a quite special respect. I am referring to M. I feel sure. politician. Need I tell you that the same spirit of inflexible and contemptuous wisdom inspired M. Delacroix's presence. Delacroix loved to construct those little catechisms of practical moraHty which the thoughtless and the idle (who practise nothing) would scornfully attribute to M. must have felt constrained to admire more than once.

This zest of incredulity. represented an interesting range of sentiments. had much of the dandy about him. that this grufif ask. like a prism. but not without a certain touch of conceit. He himself used to admit that in his youth he had thrown himself with deHght into the most material vanities of dandyism. I take idle detail. He possessed quite twenty different ways of uttering the words 'mon cher Monsieur which. I memory when one is no such thing as a superhas the nature of certain men to have told you that what most struck the attentive observer was the natural part of Delacroix's soul. he would be swift to 'Where then are your Pheidiases? where are your assured. or because he was a man of complete genius. combined with a poHteness which. and this refusal to be taken in. far more than to his long familiarity with the world of society—to himself. Raphaels ?* Be divest good sense did not any of his graces. admitted every nuance. however. He was all energy. with the collaboration of his friend Bonington. a marvellous ease of manner. for a practised ear. for all that he was a man of genius. He owed also to himself. for there it that this will not and shoes seem you an fluous paint. seasoned his conversation—already so poetic and so colourful— Hke a dash of Byronic salt. Delacroix that is to say to his genius and the consciousness of his genius— a sureness. in spite of the softening veil of a civilized refinement. Even the physical character of his countenance. from the most cordial good nature to the most irreproachable rudeness. how. but energy which sprang from the nerves and from the will—for physically he intent was frail and deHcate. his Peruvian or upon his .326 fectibility EUGENE DELACROIX and indefinite progress. he had laboured energetically to introduce a taste for English cut in clothes among to the youth of fashion. and he used to tell with a smile. The tiger prey has eyes less bright and muscles less impatiently a-quiver than could be observed when the whole spiritual being of our great painter was hurled upon an idea or was struggling to possess itself of a dream. For finally it must be said— since to me this seems but one more reason for praise— that Eugene Delacroix. of M.

but even into these works an incurable bitterness was infused in strong measure. or perhaps of some oriental potentate who. in diflEusion spite of the intensity of local tones. of Montezuma. his stubborn brow. I would ask you to observe too that even the general colour of unsatisfied craving of Delacroix's pictures has something of the colour proper to oriental landscapes and interiors. I believe. suggested the idea of an exotic origin. His works contain nothing but devastation. Once only. and carelessness and joy— the usual companions of simple pleasure— were absent from them. did he make an experiment in the role of clown or comedian. made to appear smaller. could immolate three thousand human creatures in a single day upon the pyramidal altar of the Sun. when looking at him. and as though he had . conflagrations. I have found myself thinking of those ancient rulers of Mexico. to which an unceasing tension of will gave an expression of cruelty—his whole being. Occasionally he found possible to devote his brush to the expression of tender and voluptuous feelings— for certainly he was not lacking in tenderness. and that is it produces a somewhat similar impression to that which in tropical lands experienced by a sensitive eye. the very children cast beneath the hooves of horses or menaced by the dagger of a distracted mother— the whole body of this painter's works. his abundant and glossy hair. whose hand. the immense of light creates a general effect which is almost crepuscular. is Hke a terrible hymn composed in honour slaughtered victims. massacres. betrays in the depths of his eyes a kind and an inscrutable nostalgia— something like the memory and the regret of things not known. however. in short. ravished of destiny it and irremediable anguish. with sacrificial skill. More than once. Burnt and smoking women. his tight lips. everything bears witness and incorrigible barbarity of man. The morality of his works—if it is at all permissible to speak of ethics in painting—is also visibly marked with Molochism. I mean that there.EUGENE DELACROIX the blinkings of concentration that they 327 Malay-like colouring. against the eternal cities. so seemed to do no more than sip at the light). his great black eyes (which. I say. amid the splendours of the most brilliant of feasts.

the one evil is dissipa- the American philosopher whom we have already quoted. but which among them can triumphantly add 'et arceo'? Too much hand-shaking tends to cheapen the character. And who has ever had a greater love for his ivory tower—\ha. 'Power' (p. poets and musicians. well protected by locks and bolts. "The one is prudence tion. but he austerely practised it.2 M. . but several others as well. he would give veritable drunken orgies of work. Delacroix might almost have written that maxim. Liszt puts Delacroix among tells the poet-musician's most assiduous visitors. that man was Eugene Delacroix. Mn the Conduct of Life. I beheve. He was too much a man of the world not to scorn the world.t is. in whose company he could freely relax and be himself.' says in hfe concentration. The word *our' is not only intended to imply the humble author of these lines. sanctuary and den? As others seek privacy for their debauches. and loved to fall into deep reverie at the strains of that tenuous and impassioned music which is like a brilliant bird fluttering above the horrors of an abyss. for his privacy? He would even. guessed that this was both beyond and below he never more returned to it. ^ This word is used in the original. But if ever a man had an ivory tower. young or old. himself up to he sought privacy and once he had gained it. certainly In his delightful study on Chopin. have armed it with artillery and transported it bodily into a forest or to the top of an inaccessible rock! Who has had a greater love for the home^—ho\h. how he ^ Delacroix published a few lithographic caricatures in Le Miroir in 1821. for inspiration.328 EUGENE DELACROIX his nature. 353).^ VI I KNOW several people who have a right to say 'Odi pro- fanum xmlgus. joumaHsts. and the e£Forts to which he went in order not to be too visibly himself drove him naturally to prefer our society.

and several studies and copies. David— those touching heroes long could titillated One felt instinctively that this retreat not be the habitation of a frivolous mind. no bric-a-brac. ^Robaut three such copies. I It is in that paradoxical Hght that remember a large copy of Rubens' Miracles of St. and he achieved an exactness of imitation of which those who have not seen these miracles may weU be incredulous. no old clothes. Such. no jewellery. style * and manner are imitated with such a perfect simit In fact took place in February.^ In his other manner Delacroix made himself the humblest and most obedient slave of his model. . nothing of what and the desultory wanmarvellous portrait by Jordaens. no ancient Gothic scrap-iron. thanks to the sincerity our admiration. prevailed. we were able. by a thousand incoherent fancies. 1925-7. was a mixture of fideHty and betrayal of the model. We had seen such studios in our childhood. A deHghtful uncertainty.EUGENE DELACROIX That of is 329 came about that. for example. which was broad and free. The first. suflBced to decorate that vast studio. There were no rusty panoplies to be seen there. ing to the late rivals of since departed. The result of this method was^ a fascinating mongrel-compound which threw the mind into a state of indicts its owner of a taste for toys derings of childish daydreaming. in spite an equatorial temperature and where the eye was immediately struck by a sober solemnity and by the classic austerity of the old school. I am told. These copies will probably be seen at the sale of Delacroix's drawings and pictures which is fixed. are the copies which he made after two heads by Raphael^ in the Louvre— copies in which expression. not a single Malayan kris. 1864. though still very young. belongof the rigours of our climate. for next January. and into this he put much of himself. * Now in the Brussels lists Museum. Nos. to it how penetrate the fortifications of that studio where.^ He had two very distinct manners of copying. which he had unearthed somewhere or other. in which a softened and subdued Hght illumined self-communion. made by the master himself. Bene- dict.

if only you knew how unremitting work makes one indulgent and easy to satisfy where pleasures are concemedl The man who has well filled his day will be prepared to find a sufficiency of wit even in the local postman. Now one day (a Sunday it was) I caught sight of Delacroix at the Louvre in the company of his old servant. in the Louvre. 28. dancing. but before launching out into his stormy task. pi.^ she who so devotedly looked after and cared for him for thirty years. But today I have ceased to be like a schoolboy. rummaging among his papers and turning over his books for an hour before attacking paper with pen. One day. he never stopped until overcome to by physical fatigue. . and he. he often experienced those feehngs of languor. and with his palette arranged with the meticulous care of a florist or a cloth-merchant. There is a portrait by Delacroix of his servant. I was unable to get down to work unless I had the promise of some pleasure for the evening— some music. But as soon as the artist's special magic had started to work. about the hygienics of work and the conduct of life— he said to me: 'Formerly. moreover. and will be quite content to spend his evening playing cards with him!' This remark made me think of MachiaveUi playing at dice with the peasants. After a luncheon lighter than an Arab's.330 plicity that EUGENE DELACROIX one could reciprocally and in turn mistake the originals for the translations. who. when we happened be talking about that artists and vmters— I mean. the erudite. and I can work without stopping and without any hope of reward. or any other conceivable diversion. in my youth. And then (he added). fear and prostration which make one think of the Pythoness fleeing the god. was listening to him v^th The memory of Machiavelli and Jenny le Guillou. or which remind one of Jean- Jacques Rousseau dilly-dallying. was not too proud to point out and question which always has such an interest for to explain the mysteries of Assyrian sculpture to that ex- cellent an ' artless concentration. the elegant. the exquisite. see Journal. woman. Delacroix would set himself to grapple with the interrupted idea.

When you entered into his presence he began by saying: ^ Delacroix's Journals contain Frederic Villot. had vanished from a single harsh. in covering paper with dreams. in the time that it takes him to fall from the fourth floor to the ground. Delacroix art. Delacroix was. He once said to a young man of my acquaintance: 'If you have not sufficient skill to make a sketch of a. his life. as many others have been in a position to observe. a dissipation in which he ran the risk of wasting his strength.EUGENE DELACROIX of our former conversation leapt immediately into 33I my mind. namely work.' This enormous hyperbole seems to me to contain the major concern of his whole fife. strength yet remaining in his love of he was found and he would have judged that day ill-filled if the evening hours had not been employed at the fire-side. which was. For quite a long time he made a habit of drawing at the house of friends to whom he went to spend his evenings. by lamp-light. That is how it comes about that M. and he gave himself up to it wherever he happened to be. Villot''^ possesses a considerable quantity of drawings from that fertile pen. many references to his friend . man throwing himself out of a window. But the humorous side of it is that he was as frightened of conversation as he was of a debauch. either in his studio or upon the scaffolding whither summoned by his great decorative tasks. for sketches. and sometimes in copying drawings by other artists whose temperament was as far as possible removed from his own. for he had a passion for notes. ter- which by that time was not properly have been called a After having dedicated the hours of the day to painting. exacting. ideas. or figures halfghmpsed amid the random accidents of life. The truth is that during his latter years everythkig that one normally calls pleasure having all been replaced by rible pleasure. you will never be capable of producing great machines. as is well known. to achieve an execution quick and sure enough to prevent the smallest particle of the intensity of action or idea from evaporating. merely a passion but might rage. a man of conversation. in drawing.

but respectful article^ that I had perpetrated on the subject of that spoiled child of chauvinism. When he was roused by contradiction. He had an astonishing weakness for Decamps. he drew back momentarily.wit. and then returned to the attack vvdth unexpected arguments or facts. and assuredly he must have had great critical stamina to admire by reason what he can only have rejected by temperament. he played for some time with him. very little/ And talk then he would chatter away for three hours! His brilliant was and subtle. It was indeed the conversation of a man who loved a tussle. He admired Ingres in certain of his aspects. and was on these occasions that we often had to admire that special forbearance of genius which derives perhaps from to deliver his opinions it a particular kind of simplicity or of readiness to appreciate.332 EUGENE DELACROIX that 1 think perhaps we had better not talk this morning. don't you? or only a very. Ingres at its best. and full of sudden feints and attacks. but was the slave of courtesy. but the Charlet of the decadence— not the noble historian of the old campaigners. But I never managed to win my pardon. shrewd. In the intimacy of his studio he freely relaxed so far as upon his contemporary painters. . 'the brutalities of the hustings into the skirmishes of the draw- ing-room). but the tavern. giving way on pur- pose. Horace Vemet's detestable colour did not prevent him ' See pp. And the same for Charlet. who today who doubtless was still enthroned in his mind through the power of memory. but full of facts. memories and word that nourisheth'. He once sent for me to come and see him on purpose to rap me sharply over the knuckles about a dishas fallen very low. for he is all the more resourceful as he is the more cramped for space. In vain did I try to explain to I him that it was not the Charlet of the early days that was censuring. and instead of a frontal assault upon his adversary (a thing which runs the risk of introducing the anecdotes—in short. He even carefully copied some photographs which had been made of a few of those meticulous pencil-portraits in which we see the relentless and searching talent of M. 156-60 above.



from feeling the personal potentiality with which most of his pictm^es are charged, and he hit upon some amazing expressions in order to praise their scintillation and their indefatigable passion. His admiration for Meissonier went
a Httle too far.

He had

appropriated, almost



the drawings which

had been used

in the preparation of

whose talent, more energetic expression with the simple pencil than with the brush. Of Meissonier he often
Barricade,^ the best picture of an artist
nevertheless, finds far



to say, as

though anxiously dreaming of the future,
the most certain of us
all to livel' Is it




strange to see the author of such great works showing something very hke jealousy of the

man who

only excels in small


The only man whose name had the power to wring an word or two from those aristocratic Hps was Paul
be found, and he never which had been

Delaroche. In that man's works there was obviously not a
single extenuating circumstance to rid himself of the


of the distress

caused him by all that sour and muddy painting, executed with 'ink and boot-poHsh', as Theophile Gautier once observed in an unusual access of independence.

on was the man who resembled him least of all in talent as in ideas, his veritable opposite pole— a man who has not yet received all the justice which is his due, and whose brain, although as fog-ridden as the fuHginous sky of his native city, contains a whole host of admirable


his favourite choice as his travelling-companion

vast exiles of talk

am describing M. Paul Chenavard. The abstruse theories of the painter-philosopher of Lyons made Delacroix smile; and that doctrinaire pedagogue held
things. I

the sensuous pleasures of pure painting to be frivolous, if not blameworthy things. But however remote they may

have been from one another, or precisely because of that remoteness, they loved to set course for one another, until, Hke two vessels secured by grappHng-irons, they could no longer part company. Both of them, moreover, being highly educated and endowed with a remarkable sense of sociability, met together on the common ground of erudition.


in the Louvre; see pi. 47.

It is



that generally speaking this


not the

which artists are conspicuous. Chenavard was thus a precious resource for Delacroix. It was a real pleasure to watch them set to in innocent struggle, the words of the one marching ponderously like an elephant in full panoply of war, and those of the other quivering like a fencing-foil, equally keen and flexible. During the last hours of his life our great painter expressed the desire to shake the hand of his friendly sparring-partner once more. But he was far from Paris at that time.
quality for

affected women wiU perhaps be shocked Hke Michelangelo (may I remind you that one of his sonnets ends with the words 'Sculpture! divine Sculpture! thou art my only love!'), Delacroix had made painting his unique muse, his exclusive mistress, his sole

Sentimental and

to learn that,


sufficient pleasure.


doubt he had loved


greatly in the troubled

hours of his youth.

Who among

us has not sacrified too

to that formidable idol?

And who

does not



precisely those that have served her the best that

complain of her the most? But a long time before his death he had already excluded woman from his Hfe. Had he been a Mohammedan, he would not perhaps have gone so far as to drive her out of his mosques, but he would have been

amazed to see her entering them, not being quite able to understand what sort of converse she could have with Allah. In this question, as in many others, the oriental idea dominated him keenly and tyrannically. He regarded



an object of



excite the mind, but disobedient

throws open the door of one's devouring of time and strength. I remember that once we were in a public place, when I pointed out to him the face of a woman marked with an original beauty and a melancholy character; he was very anxious to be appreciative, but instead, to be self-consistent,

and well suited to and disturbing once one heart to her, and gluttonously



he asked with his little laugh, 'How on earth could a woman be melancholy?', doubtless insinuating thereby that, when it comes to understanding the sentiment of melanchoha, woman is lacking in some essential ingredient. This, unfortunately, is a highly insulting theory, and I certainly would not want to advocate defamatory opinions upon a sex which has often exhibited glowing virtues. But you will surely allow that it is a prudential theory; and further, that talent could not be too well armed with prudence in a world that is full of ambushes, and that the


of genius is privileged to hold certain doctrines (so long as they are not subversive of order) which would
rightly scandalize us in a


citizen or a simple family

man. At the

risk of casting a

shadow upon



in the

estimation of elegiac souls, perhaps I ought to
neither did he

add that

show any

aflFectionate partiality for child-


never thought of children except with jamsmeared hands (a thing that dirties canvas and paper), or beating a drum (a thing that interrupts meditation), or



and animaUy dangerous creatures



1 remember very well (he used to say sometimes) that when I was a child, I was a monster. The understanding of
duty is only acquired very slowly, and it is by nothing less than by pain, chastisement and the progressive exercise of reason that man can gradually diminish his natural wickedness/

Thus, by the road of simple good sense he reverted towards the Cathohc idea. For it is true to say that, generally speaking, the child, in relation to the




closer to original sin.


You would have thought

that Delacroix had reserved his which was manly and deep, for the austere sentiment of friendship. There are people who be-


easily attached to the first

comer; others reserve the



use of the divine faculty for great occasions.
love of being bothered over

he had no

man about whom I am now talking to you with so much pleasure knew how to be a courageous and zealous ally when important matters were in question. Those who knew him well have had many an opportunity of appreciating his
the famous
positively English loyalty, punctiliousness
social relations. If
less severe


stability in

he was exacting

to others,

he was no

me to have to say a few words about certain accusations that have been brought against Eugene Delacroix. I have heard people taxing him with egotism and even with avarice. I would ask you to observe. Sir, that this reproach is always directed by the countless tribe of commonplace souls against those that endeavour to bestow their generosity wdth as much care as their friendIt is

upon himseH. sad and distressing to


him it was the only on occasion, very generous. I could prove this with several examples, but I would hesitate to do so without having been authorized by him, any more than by those who have had good reason to thank him.
Delacroix was very economical; for
of being,


Please observe too that for
sold very badly,

many a

long year his paintings

and that

decorative works ate


almost the whole of his salary,

when he

did not actually


to dip into his

proofs of his scorn for

own purse. He gave innumerable money when needy artists revealed

a desire to possess one of his works. Then, like those Uberal

and generous-minded doctors who sometimes expect to be paid for their professional services, and sometimes give them free, he would give away his pictures, or part with them at a nominal price. Fioally, Sir, we must remember that the superior man, more than any other, is obliged to have an eye to his personal defences. It might be said that the whole of society is at war with him. We have had more than one opportunity
of confirming this.

His courtesy


called coldness; his

however much he may have softened it, is interpreted as spitefulness; and his economy, as avarice. But if, on the other hand, the poor creatine turns out to be improvident.

society will say, 'Quite right too! EUs



a punish-


for his prodigality/

able to assert that, so far as money and economy were concerned, Delacroix completely shared the opinion of Stendhal— an opinion which reconciles greatness and



'The sensible man,' said Stendhal, *must devote himself

acquiring what

is strictly

necessary to him in order not

be dependent upon anyone (in Stendhal's time, this meant an income of 6,000 francs) ;i but if, once he has achieved this security, he wastes his time increasing his Fortune, he is a scoundrel/ Pursuit of the essential, and scorn of the superfluous— that is the conduct of a wise man and a Stoic.


of our painter's greatest concerns during his last of posterity

was the judgment

and the uncertain

durability of his works.

One moment


an immortal and then he would speak with bitterness of the fragility of canvases and colours. At other times he would enviously cite the old masters who almost all of them had the good fortune to be translated by skilful engravers whose needle or burin had learnt to adapt itself to the Qature of their talent, and he keenly regretted that he had Dot found his own translator. This friability of the painted work, as compared with the stability of the printed work,
imagination would take

at the idea of

was one of

themes of conversation. man, who was so frail and so stubborn, so highly-strung and so courageous; this man, who was unique m. the history of European art; the sickly and sensitive artist who never ceased to dream of covering walls with his grandiose conceptions—when this man, I say, was carried dAF by one of those inflammations of the lung, of which, it seems, he had a convulsive foreboding, we all of us felt
his habitual



something approximating to that depression of soul, that
sensation of growing solitude

briand and that of Balzac

-a sensation
^See Stendhal

which the death of Chateauhad already made famiHar to us which was quite recently renewed by the

De Amour (Levy

edition) p. 193.



death of Alfred de Vigny.^ A great national sorrow brings with it a lowering of general vitality; a clouding of the
like an eclipse of the sun; a momentary end of the world. I believe however that this impression is chiefly confined to those proud anchorites who can only make themselves a family by means of intellectual relations. As for the rest of the community, it is only gradually that they most of them learn to realize the full extent of their coimtry's loss in losing its great man, and to appreciate what an empty space he has left behind him. And yet it is only right to warn them. I thank you, Sir, with all my heart for having been so kind as to aUow me to say freely all that was suggested to my mind by the memory of one of the rare geniuses of our unhappy age— an age at once so poor and so rich, an age at times too exacting, at times too indulgent— and too often




imitation of the

^ Chateaubriand had died in 1848, Balzac in 1850, and Vigny only a few months before Delacroix.


Pages 211-2. Noble creatures are sometimes

bom under the

sun; earthly epitomes of aU that one dreams of—bodies
of iron, hearts of flame, glorious spirits. God seems to produce them so as to prove Himself; He takes a softer clay to mould them, and often spends a century in bringing them to perfection. Like a sculptor, He places the print of His thumb on their brows, which shine with the glory of the heavens; their fiery haloes burgeon in rays

of gold.

Calm or radiant they go their way, never for a moment abandoning their solemn gait, with the motionless Give them but eye and the bearing of the gods one day, or give them a hundred years, tumult or tran. .


the palette or the sword: they will



shining destinies. Their strange existence

the reality

of the dream; they will carry out your ideal plan, as a

clever sculptor carries out a pupil's sketch. Through the triumphal arch which you have built in dreams, your

unknown desires will ride behind them on their steeds ... Of such men each nation can count five or six, five
or six at the most, in prosperous ages, ever-living symbols of

which legends are made.

Page 214.

And once


the picture torments and follows

Page 271. The bad taste of the age in me.


matter frightens

Page 287. Gloomy


immense web


covered with a veil! Spider with an which the Nations are caughtl FounI

tain beset with urns

Breast ever-flowing with milk.



whither the generations of mankind come to receive the City tempest-wrappedl food of ideas




Page 301. The charms of horror only


the strong!

Pages 301-2. As proud of her noble stature as if she were alive, with her huge bouquet, her handkerchief and her gloves, she has the nonchalance and the imconcem of a skinny coquette with extravagant airs. Did you ever see a slimmer figure among the dancers? Her gown, billowing out in its regal abundance, cascades upon a dry foot which is pinched by a tasselled shoe, as pretty as a flower. The frill which plays about her shoulder-blades, like a wanton brook foaming against a rock, chastely shields those funereal charms which she is so anxious to hide from stupid jeerers. Her deep eyes are wells of darkness and shadow, and her skuU, tastefully crowned with flowers, sways slackly on her slender spine— Oh speU of nothingness, madly bedeckedl Some will call you a caricature— those whose drunken love of the flesh does not allow them to understand the nameless elegance of the body's scaffolding. Huge skeleton, you echo my dearest tastel Do you come to disturb the festival of life, v^th your awesome grimace?





Bibliothdque Nationale . typical works by artists whom prints he discusses but who do not figure in the first series. Paris. According to Baudelaire's friend and publisher. 3. 2. Baudelaire's 'Salon de 1846': Title-page London. M. Octave Tassaert (1800-74): *Don't play the heartless one Lithograph. Armand Godoy Self-Portrait. Illustrations following over-all design: tion (Nos. ^ One of a series of self-portrait drawings which may have been intended (but were not used) for the second edition of the Fleurs du mal (1861). British Museum Baudelaire's mother was bom Caroline ArchimbaultDufays.1860 Pen and red chalk. 1927). 1-11). Lausanne. 71.NOTES ON THE ILLUSTRATIONS The Illustrations have been arranged according to the 1. 72-9). 1846. to the Introduc- A series of identified works from the Salons of 1845. Unless otherwise stated. See p. and sculptures (Nos. 2. from 4. 1. the medium is oil. Charles Baudelaire (1821-67): C. and 1859 (excluding Delacroix) (Nos. 41. 59-71). from the series *Les Amants et les Epoux'. Works by Ingres and Delacroix (Nos. Victoria and Albert Museum Lithograph. Gavarni (1804-66): The artist and his Critic Le Charivari. I' See p. See Dessins de Baudelaire (Paris. 12-41). 42-58). London. this was the best of the group. A few works from other Salons which by Baudelaire. and 5. PouletMalassis. 4. are mentioned 3. and his first works were published under the composite name 'Baudelaire Dufays'. Caricatxires (Nos.

C. Oedipus and the Sphinx. M. my they have *skied' my picture dear fellow— arent you pleased? But you ought to be enchanted to see that they have hung your little things well above those of Meissonierl how 10. at the top. Private Collection Taken from the figure o£ Baudelaire in Manet's La Musique aux Tuileries. The Ingres Gallery at the Exposition Universelle. To the left is the Apothcan be seen the Joan of Arc. Christ giving the keys to St. Armand Godoy . 1855 Contemporary photograph. after a pastel by Eugene Lami (1800-90): Portrait of Delacroix Eugene Giraud. 1856 Pen and wash. the Bather of Valpingon. Lausanne. the Muse de Cherubim and the portrait of M. London. Honore Daumier (1808-79): The Salon of 1859 Lithograph position (Deltiel 3138) from the series 'L'Ex- de 1859'. three cartoons for stained glass. France. Private Collection 8. 7. the Venus Anadyomene and the portrait of Mme. London. 9. 1862 Etching (Gu^rin 31). London. Baudelaire: Portrait of Daumier. Water-colour. Peter. Gonse: below. See pp. Victoria and Albert Museum I The following is a translation of the caption:— —Just look —Why. Edouard Manet (1832-83): Portrait of Baudelaire. Victoria and Albert Museum The large circular painting in the centre eosis of Napoleon. notes on the plates Etienne Carjat (1828-1906): Photograph of Baudelaire.1863 6. Bertin the elder: to the right. the Grande Odalisque. and. and published in Charles Asselineau's Charles Baudelaire et son oeuvre (1869). 204-5.344 5.

with hanging head and bent shoulders.NOTES ON THE PLATES 11. Horace Vernet (1789-1863) The Capture of the Smala (detail) : Salon of 1845 (La prise de See pp. Its intermediate history is unknown. It is dated 1843. 13. *that Baudelaire had the ability to alter his appearance like an escaped convict seeking to evade recapture. 1937. See pp. 811.' added Champfleury.' he said: Tiis face changes every day. 7-8. Haussoullier: The Fountain of Youth (detail) 14. . la smalah d'Abd-el-Kader) . London. . 1 don't know how to finish Baudelaire's portrait. he might have been taken for a Carthusian . p. Musee des Reaux-Arts 15. Graham Reynolds This painting was lot 107 at Christies. 345 GuSTAVE CouRBET (1819-77): Portrait of Baudelaire Montpellier. 1872. 27.' *It is true. Sometimes his hair would hang over his collar in graceful perfumed ringlets: the next day his bare scalp would have a bluish tint owing to the barber's razor. Musee Fabre According to Champfleury (Souvenirs et portraits de jeunesse.' 12. One morning he would appear smiling with a large bouquet in his hand two days later. Mr. Rouen. friar digging his own grave. 135). Courbet found Baudelaire a difficult subject. Adrien Guignet (1816-54): Joseph interpreting THE DREAMS OF PhARAOH Salon of 1845 (Joseph expliquant les songes du Pharaon) See p. 17 Dec. and measures 51 by 72 in. William Haussoullier (1818-91): The Fountain of Youth Salon of 1845 (La Fontaine de jouvence).

Versailles. This was Horace Vemet's largest composition. the present detail representing only about a quarter of the complete picture. Louis de Planet (1814-75): The Vision of Saint Teresa Salon of 1845 (La Vision de sainte Therese). . THEfODORE Chasseriau (1819-56): The Caliph of CONSTANTINE WITH HIS BODYGUARD Salon of 1845 (Le Kalifat de Constantine escorte). suivi de son Musee Ali-ben-Hamet. 18. Musee Municipal Like Louis de Planet and Leger Cherelle. NOTES ON THE PLATES Musee The capture of the smaldh—ox encampment— of the Emir Abd-el-Kader by the French forces under the due d'Aumale took place in 1843 and was one of the most picturesque episodes in the North African campaign. had recently paid a lengthy visit to Paris. 16. LassaleBordes was one of Delacroix's assistants in his decorative works. See pp. 1929). Autun. See pp. 80-4. See p. See also Louis de Planet. 17-8. Louis Janmot (1814-92): Flowers of the Field Salon of 1845 (Fleurs des champs).346 Versailles. GusTAVE Lassale-Bordes (1814-C. 19. 68-9. Musee des Beaux.Arts 17. 20. 16.1868): The Death of Cleopatra Salon of 1846 (La Mort de Cleopatre). Souvenirs de travaux de M. Caliph of Constantine. Eugdne Delacroix (Paris. Lyon. France. See p. Private Collection peinture avec pp.

Chenavard. Musee 21. No. 24. See p. 347 Jean-Baptiste-Camille Corot (1796-1875): Homer and the Shepherds Salon of 1845 (Homere et les bergers). See pp. Augustine and Salon of 1846 (Saint Augustin et sainte Monique). See p. Ary Scheffer (1795-1858): St. in the collection of which was formerly Queen Marie Amelie. see also Joseph C. Corot: Landscape— The Forest of Fontainehleau Salon of 1846 (Vue prise dans la foret de Fontainehleau ). 105. March 1955. See p. Montpellier. XIII. It is Musee Conde presumably of this picture that Baudelaire observes that the ducks have been given a 'slab of stone to swim on'. See p. Museum of Fine Arts 22. Sloane s identification of a portrait-drawing of Baudelaire by Chenavard does not however seem vincing. Musee Fabre On Baudelaire's opinion of Chenavard. 3. 78. Saint'Lo. 113-4. Paul Chenavard (1807-95): Dante's Inferno Salon of 1846 (L'Enfer de Dante). London. Tate Gallery This is in fact a replica of the Salon picture. Boston. . 29. in the Journal of Aesthetics and Art Criticism. Alexandre-Gabriel Decamps (1803-60): Souvenir of Turkey in Asia Salon of 1846 (Souvenir de la Turquie d'Asie). 109. to be entirely con- 23. Prof.notes on the plates 20. Sloane's article 'Baudelaire. Monica St. Chantilly. and "Philo- sophic Art"'. vol.

is after Chifflart's drawing. Musee Ingres Although Baudelaire did not write about Paul Flandrin at the Salon of 1859. 78. Montauban. 269-70. 245-6. See p. Paul Flandrin (1811-1902): Landscape Salon of 1859 (Paysage). 265. Victoria and Albert Museum The reproduction not known. 26. Lille. See pp. See Amsterdam. he gave him a paragraph in 1845 (p. Paul Baudry (1828-86): The Penitent Magdalen "Nantes. Fodor Museum p. See pp. Cheltenham. 112-3). Joseph Lies (1821-65): Salon of 1859 (Les d'Art The Evils of Wab Manx de la guerre).348 25. Salon of 1859 (La Madeleine penitente). Musee 27. NicoLAS-FnANgois Chifflart (1825-1901): Faust AT THE Sabbath (detail) Salon of 1859 (Faust au sabbat). London. Musee des Beaux-Arts 31. 31). See Moderne pp. Mr. 243-5. Musee des Beaux-Arts 29. Bahuet's lithograph whose present whereabouts is 30. Amand-Desire Gautier (1825-94): Sisters of Mercy Salon of 1859 (Les Soeurs de charite). See p. taken from A. and in 1846 devoted two pages to an attack on 'Historical Landscape*. Alphonse Legros (1837-1911): The Angelus Salon of 1859 (L'Angelus). 267. notes on the plates Decamps: Turkish Landscape Salon of 1846 (Paysage turc). Brussels. Asa Lingard 28. . of which this picture is a good example (pp.

Rousseau: The Forest of Fontainebleau—Morning Salon of 1850-1 (Lisi^re de foret—effet de matin). Musee du Louvre 33. Theodore Rousseau (1812-67): The Gorges d'Apremont. Charles le Roux (1814-95): Water-Meadows at CORSEPT. J. au mois d'aout) See p. ON the MOUTH OF THE LoiRE Salon of 1859 (Prairies et marais de Corsept. 280. and exhibited at the same Salon. London. . Jr. Wallace Collection. Mather. Bordeaux.notes on the plates 32. Charles Daubigny (1817-78): Landscape by the River Oise Salon of 1859 (Les Bords de I'Oise). Mrs F. A larger picture representing the same scene at sunset (now in the Louvre). Women of Salon of 1859 (Les Cervarolles). Fontainebleau Salon of 1859 (Les Gorges d'Apremont) See pp. 36. had been commissioned in 1848 by the State. Millet: The Angelus Musee du Louvre . See p. See Bourg-en-Bresse. Jean-Franqois Millet (1814-75): The Cowgirl Salon of 1859 pp. 280-1. 281-2. This marked the beginning of Rousseau's official recognition. 349 Ernest Hebert (1817-1908): Peasant Cervaro Paris. Paris. 35. a I'embouchure de la Loire. 264. 280. Musee du Louvre The figures are by Corot . 37. Paris. See p. (Femme faisant paitre sa vache). Princeton. Musee de VAin 38. Musee de Peinture 34.

'vision' 43. Paris. which gave rise to the picture. 18-9. See pp. Paris. See pp. See pp. p. 1886 edition. Paris. 285-6. The Shakespearian subject shows Corot's orthodox Romantic sympathies. this picture at about the same time was not exhibited until the Exposition Universelle of 1867. is similar in style to others which have been referred to Baudelaire's description in the Salon of 1859. See p. 89.350 NOTES ON THE PLATES Although painted in 1858-9. 98) gives a long quotation from Gleyre's Journal. Charles Gleyre (1806-74): Evening Salon of 1843 (Le Soir). Clement {Gleyre. and was engraved under the title Les Illusions perdues. paysage). Constant Troyon (1810-65): The Retubn to the Farm Salon of 1859 (Le Retour a la ferme). O'Hana Gallery This pastel. as the Cowgirl. 256. which is not however inscribed. Musee du Louvre . 281-3. 281. London. Musee du Louvre 42. Macbeth was alone and immounted. See p. Corot: Macbeth and the Witches Salon of 1859 (Macbeth. London. in which he describes the he had in March 1835 beside the Nile. Musee du Louvre This picture achieved a great popular success. 40. The seated man in the foreground represents the poetic hero who sadly watches his youthful illusions pass away from him. Eugene Boudin (1824-98): Sky-Study Pastel. 41. Wallace Collection In the original sketch for this picture. Jean-Leon Ger6me (1824-1904): The Cock-Fight Salon of 1847 (Jeunes Grecs faisant battre des coqs).

it cannot be identified with the present version. portrait. 1850-1 (Souvenir de guerre civile). Ernest Meissonier (1815-91): The Barricade Salon of p.NOTES ON THE PLATES This was Gerome's first 351 it exhibit at the Salon. On 45. Ricard. Paris.Arts Although Granet exhibited an Interrogatoire de Savonarole at the Salon of 1846. See Musee du Louvre The scene is set in the rue de exists. 27. see particu- 48. Wallace Collection Among Samson the pictures on the wall in the background is a self-portrait and a sketch for Meissonier's unfinished slaying the Philistines. see pp. which had already entered the Granet's colour. GusTA%^ RiCARD (1823-73): Portrait of a Girl Lyon. see pp. 93-5 and 275-6. Paris. Paris. 46. which no longer larly p. of the 'Master of the Neo-Greeks' (see FRANgois-MABius Granet (1775-1849): The Interrogation of Savonarola Lyon. . London. Musee du Louvre A characteristic example of the Ingres-school on which see pp. On Meissonier. 277-8. 97 Lyon Museum in the previous and 101. 333. Musee des Beaux. Vinet Dated 1840. year. Mu^ee des Beaux-Arts On 47. Meissonier: A Painter Showing his Drav^^ings Salon of 1850-1 (Un peintre montrant ses dessins). 44. HippoLYTE Flandrin (1809-64): Portrait of Mme. la Mortellerie. earned him the title pp. 253 E).

50. with his medicine or mystery pipes in his hands. 54. London. see particularly pp. prepared to make his last visit to his patient. London. 28 in Delteil and Wright. Paris Etching. . 113-4. see pp. Etching. Victoria and Albert Museum No. to cure him. Catalogue raisonnS of the etchings of Charles Meryon. Paris. among the Mandan fanners of the Upper Missouri river. Smithsonian Institution Probably painted in 1832.352 49. notes on the plates Narcisse Diaz (1807-76): Love's Offspring Dated 1847. 286-8. 1924. 52. les plus ceUhres de la George Catlin (1796-1872): Buffalo-hunt under THE Wolf-Skin Mask Washington. the Old Bear Washington. Athens Salon of 1846. but here repre- sented in the character of a Medicine Man or Doctor. See pp. On Meryon. Catlin. Museum of Art Theodore Caruelle d'Aligny (1798-1871): The Acropolis. by hocus pocus and magic'. 80-1 and 265-6. Charles Meryon (1821-68): The Clock Tower. see particularly pp. and foxes' tails tied to his heels. Metropolitan New 51. Victoria and Albert Museum No. on the plains of the Upper Missouri. The sitter was described by Catlin as *A very distinguished brave. 1845. Smithsonian Institution Painted in 1832. On 53. 72-3. 5 in Aligny's Vues des sites Grece Antique. Diaz: Study of Trees York. 1852. Tate Gallery On Diaz. if possible. George Catlin: Mah-to-he-ha. London.

-D. 35. P. Christophe wrote to him hoping that he would not be forgotten when it came to the section on sculpture. Cherubini and his Muse . J. *la Presidente'.-A. Musee du Louvre 56. Ingres (1780-1867). see pp. 59. Present whereabouts unknown This maquette. Whether she was Baudelaire's mistress in the strict sense of the word is still uncertain.NOTES ON THE PLATES 55. Musee du Louvre Apollonie Sabatier Baudelaire's 'Venus blanche'. 293-4. Taris. 353 David d'Angers (1788-1856): Child with a Bunch of Grapes Salon of 1845 (L'Enfant a la grappe). but he is known to have addressed anonymous love-letters to her. the younger sister of Mme. Sabatier. when it was reproduced as frontispiece to Le Cinquantenaire de Charles Baudelaire (Paris. and called by Gautier became a cele- literary and artistic hostess in the 1850s. brated On 58. 300-2. which was the source of Baudelaire's poem of the same name. AuGusTE Clesinger (1814-83): Bust of Madame Sabatier Marble. See p. Clesinger's sculptures. See p. See pp. In the course of the publication of Baudelaire's articles of on the Salon 1859. 122. Maison du Livre). Nimes. and a group of poems in the Fleurs du mal refers to her. 1859. Marble. 1847. Christophe married B6b6. James Pbadier (1792-1852): The Frivolous Muse Salon of 1846 (La Poesie legere). Faris. Marble. Musee des Beaux-Arts 57. was in 1917 in the collection of Comte Robert de Montesquieu.-J. Ernest Christophe (1827-92): *Danse Macabre' Terracotta (?).

Paris. 51-2 and 212. Musee du Louvre : 88. Delacroix: Women of Algiers Salon of 1834 (Femmes d' Alger dans leur appartement). See pp. See pp. Musee du Louvre 62. 54 and 66. 88. Formerly with Messrs. Eugene Delacroix (1798-1863) Dante and Virgil (Dante et Virgile Phlegias). 63. Ingres: The Comtesse d'Haussonville Dated 1845. See pp. Paris. Paris. 66. Delacroix: Romeo and Juliet Salon of 1846 (Les Adieux de Rom^o et Juliette).354 NOTES ON THE PLATES Dated 1842 (La Muse de Cherubini). 60. Paris. Ingres: Apotheosis of Homer Dated 1827. Delacroix: Hamlet and the Gravedigger Salon of 1839 (Hamlet et Horatio au cimetiere). See pp. and Paris. 70 note. Paris . Musee du Louvre Among Baudelaire's pictures was a copy of the Femmes d'Alger by Emile Deroy. Islew York. Paris. Musee du Louvre The composer Chembini died in Paris in 1842. 87. Bernheim-Jeune. See p. Frick Collection 61. See p. Musee du Louvre 65. Musee du Louvre Salon of 1822 conduits par 64. See pp. 61 and 87. Ingres: The 'Grande Odalisque' Dated 1814. 64-5 and 214. 65-6 and 214. See pp.

p. Delacroix: The Last Words of Marcus Aurelius Salon of 1845 (Demieres paroles de Tempereur MarcAurele). 7. London. Delacroix: The Ascent to Calvary Salon of 1859 (La Montre au Calvaire). See p. (1804-59): Liard—The See (Liard— chiflFonnier philosophe). 4-6. sortant (Muley Abd-err-Rahman. Le Charivari: Beraldi. Anchises. 176. Bessonneau The reference is to the sixth book of the Aeneid. Lyon. Victoria and Albert Published in Museum Le Graveur du 4. Charles. Formerly in the collection of M. Delacroix: Ovid in Exile among the Scythians Salon of 1859 (Ovide en exil chez les Scythes). XIXe sidcle. 250. Musee Central p. Musee des Augustins pi. 7. 68. p. . 151. See Toulouse. See pp. Private Collection 71.notes on the plates 67. See pp. in Hades. XII (1892). 70. 355 his Delacroix: The Sultan of Morocco with Bodyguard Salon of 1845 Maroc.Joseph Travies Philosopher Tramp Lithograph p. 72. sultan de de son palais de Mequinez). Musee des Beaux-Arts 69. A later version is reproduced Journal. vol. Delacroix: The Sibyl with the Golden Bough Salon of 1845 (Une Sibylle qui montre le rameau d'or). 250 and 252. in which Aeneas consults the Cumaean Sibyl and is told that he must find the golden bough before he can speak with his father. See Metz. No. 67.

On Gavarni. Bibliothdque Nationale A posthumous work. 76.'— 'Then give me your shoes. notes on the plates Gavarni (1804-66): After the Ball Lithograph (unpublished) Paris. 155-6. Private Collection ing No. On Pigal. sm. No. 1873. 15 of the series. Victoria and Albert Museum No. there on this fine day to crown his passion. The following is a translation of the caption:— 'My dear Bertrand. No. which is a comic adaptation from Virgil:— A protective fog obscured the heavens.'— Very weU. 168. published in Le Charivari. Honore Daxjmier (1808-79): Robert Macaire— Barrister Lithograph (Delteil 362).'— Haven't you got ten francs?'—'Not a farthing. and I'll plead extenuating circumstances. give me a hundred crowns and I'll have you acquitted on the spot!'— 1 haven't got a shilling. The followis a translation of the caption. 160-70. Edme-Jean Pigal (1798-1872): 'The other foot. . not' maitre') London. 74.356 73. Daumier: Dido and Aeneas Lithograph (Delteil 939). see pp. Aeneas guided his lady-friend into a dim grotto. See Private Collection p. See pp. see particularly pp. 'Caricaturana'. The two are dressed in the costume of 'debardeurs'. 2691 in Armelhaut and girls Bocher's Oeuvre de Gavarni. 'Histoire Ancienne'. 173-4.' On Daumier. 9 of the series. and as they both happened to have come out without their umbrellas. see pp. 168-9. 7 of the series. a hundred francs!'— I haven't got a penny. 'Miroir de Paris'. 75. please r Lithograph ('L*auf pied.

London. 187-8. Victoria and Albert Museum On Pinelli. See pp. series. 184. 357 William Hogarth (1697-1764): The Reward of Cruelty Engraving. Bartolomeo Pinelli (1781-1835): Roman Carnival Water-colour. 4 of the (1751). see pp. London. dated 1806. . *The Four Stages of Cruelty' Francisco Goya (1746-1828): Who would have believed it? Aquatint (Quien lo creyeral). See p. 182-6. London. On Goya.notes on the plates 77. 62 of Los Caprichos. see pp. Victoria and Albert Museum No. 79. 179-80. Victoria and Albert Museum No. 78.


from a contemporary caricature. 181. see pp. with the Institut in the background. from the Physiologie de Thomme de hi (Paris. p. 'The popular Cupid'. 1840). vignettes in the text are as follows:— 133 Damnier. 166-7. Delacroix. and Delacroix *La ligne est une couleur I' p. *The dead plaintiff. 'Cholera'. deep sea!' p. 1841?). 191 Seymour. See p. 254-5. from La Nemesis Medicate (Paris. For devices Ingres has 'La couleur est xme utopiel Vive la lignel'. See pp.NOTES ON THE VIGNETTES The p. from Whims and Oddities (1826). p. 153 Trimolet. 195 Ingres v. . 305 Hood. *OhI the deep.




141 Aristotle. 105. Antoine ( 17851867). 96-97. 128 Borget. J. 113- 14 Jean-Jacques (172592). 155. the elder. Butte. 280 Beranger. 337 Bandinelli. 24. 93-95.-F. Louis (1812-93).-N. P. Jules (1827-1905). 15-16. J. 14 Berlin. 226 (d. Lorenzo ( 1777- Boudin. 229. J. 229 Banville. 275 Anastasi. 263 Barthelemy. Honore de. 159 Berry. E. 189-90 Brueghel.-A. 280 Ariosto.-E. 265. Theodore de. Josephine CafiBeri. PI. 272 Baudouin. 247. 201. 30 Baujault. J. 130. Peter.. 110-11. Victor (1775-1842). 1845-46). Adolphe 110 (1802-75). 107 Boulanger. 258 Baudry. Hippolyte. 258 Bida. 253 Bartolini. 1893). (180885). 310 Aristophanes. Biard.-A. Henri (1816-85). Giovanni. J. 326 Bonvin. Alexandre (1823-95). 97. 236. 245 Arondel (exh. 90 . 22 Belly. Jules. Peter. 127. (1813-66). 157. (1786-1866). Stefano. 197-98. 116 Bossuet. Louis. 134 Brascassat.74 Bonaparte. J. 280 BriUouin. 31 Breton. 174. working 1850-59). P. (1799P-1882). 307. 28. Napoleon.-A. Jean-Jacques. (1804-67). 224. (1723-69). 189 Bmne. 285-86. 110 Baron. 295-96 Byron. 34-35.-B.INDEX Aligny. 323 Bonington. Auguste (1809-77). 113-14. 9 Barbey d'Aurevilly. Paul (1828-86). (b. Nicolas. 36 Baud. 218. (1798-1871).-H. Stephano (Butti. L. 51 Amaury-Duval. the younger. Mme. 90 Brueghel. 11 294 Bellini. 236 Bourdaloue. 33. 294-95 Becquet. (1802-28). 266 Boileau. Duchesse de. 203. 99. Louis (1806-67). 156. 277 F. 31. 326 Belloc. PI. Cabat. Baccio. 247. 32. Marc ( 1828-after 1870). (1817-93). 108 Beranger. 89. Frangois (1817-87).-B. Auguste (1820-89). 119 276 Babou. 310. 134 Bard. Leon (1827-77). 298 Calamatta. (1828-99). Lord. 39 Bouilly. Theodore Caruelle d' Besson. 320 Boissard de Boisdenier.-R.-G. 208. R. 1812). Lodovico. 15-16. Pi. Eugene (1825-1908). Just (1829-1907). 81. 1850). J. Faustin (1821-82).. 115 Balzac. Pierre-Jean de. 218.

Jean-Pierre. 16.-N.-F. le Lorrain. 251. 1813). 7. Philippe ( (1824-87). 294 1757- Auguste ( 1814263-64. 58 310 Daubigny. 21. 183 Cornelius.-C. L. C. Peter (1783-1867) Chacaton. RA (17781854). 107 Comeille. PI. 32-33 Chenavard.30.. 320. 22 Philippe Chennevieres. Paul 108-9. T. George (1796-1872). (1807-95). Alfred de (1820-1 135 Cherelle. PI.-M. 17 Chateaubriand. 77. 76. 292 298 Chass^riau. 81 Crabbe. 275. 284-85.. 17. 37. PI. 1816). 230 Dantan. 333-34. 268. 298-99 Catlin. 203. 2$ Coustou. F. 121 Curtius (Curtz). Charles (1825-91). (1825-1901). J. PI. Pierre. de (b. 147. 101 Cattermole. Pierre (1823-86). Charles (1817-78) 280. 177 Chaplin. 262 277 Charlet. 328 Christophe. 37 Dante. L^gar (b. 187. Gustave (1819-77 205. Corot. 291.-H. Louis (c. (1792-1845). Coignard. 300-2. Frangois Rene de. 113 Chifflart. 29 Chintreuil.-D. 28283. 225 19. 218. 33. Thomas (1815-79) 6. Philippe de. ( Antonio 1822). 259.364 Calame. 287 Comairas. N. 10'. 59. Jacques. PI. 20. 146. Camagni. 57 Clovis. 194 Cogniet. J. Charles ( 181152). 267. 221 Callot. 65. 289. 246 Champfleury. Ernest ( 182792). 12f th< Dantan. Couture. 201 Crowe. 115 Coleridge. 155-60. J. 97 Clesinger. 72-73. 37 Canova. 21. J. Jean. J. 266 Cottin. 221 Champaigne. Alexandre 64). 337-38 Chazal. (1797-1865). N. 247 Chevandier de Valdrome. A. I. 168. th( elder (1798-1878). 113-14. 90-91 Daguerre.-E. Catherine. (1813- 68). 208 Carrier de Belleuse. 228. S. Pis. 231 Cervantes. 116 Chalon. Guillaume. Leon (1794-1880). 11 Court. 293-94. 181-82 Cumberworth. 175. 296 Curzon. the. (1796-1875) 28-30. Frederic. Paul (1817-77). 222 Cazotte.1810-83). PI. 299 1800Compte-Calix.. 332 Courbet. Antoine (1793-1854). 270 (1804-49). 37.-N. Antoine-Laurent. 62.-B. 171. 1803- 75). 68 95). 30-31 ( INDEX 1810Claude 83). Carracci. 281. 224. 33 . 162. Theodore (1819- 56). Antoine (181673). H. 238 Cruikshank. 280 Chopin.-T. Pis. 109 52-53 George ( Commerson. 40 Correggio. Jacques. Pi. younger (1800-69).-J. 80). de. George ( 17921878). 49. George.

113 everia. 37.-B. Eugene (1805-65). 16. Edouard. 163. Claude. 11-13. 254 Fay. 116 Fontaine. 97.-B.-M. John (1755-1826). J. 73-74. 308. 310. PI. 1. 274. 97. 80-81. 256 Foumier. 163 Fremiet. Foumier. Albrecht..-J. CamiUe (1802-68). F. Eugene 1798- 20 Fenelon. 50-68. 21. 199. 6. 236. (1803-60). 262. ( 1824- 30-31 iderot. 332. 209 esaugiers. 89 Flers. 174. 252. 223.-V. Emerson. 193. PI. 240. 160 52. 27 Fromentin. 95. 119 Diirer.-L. 288 Fualdes. 321 Etex. C. the elder (1790-1864). (180776). 238-39. 98. 243. 8. C. 224. 210-19. the younger (1820-83). Hippolyte (180964). Pis. 302. 106. F. 55 'ebon. (1818-84). 34 •avid.. 106. 17. 71. 61. William. 121. 1815). 173. 1863). 125.. 104. Pierre (1790-1854). 289. P. 246-53.-G. 24. 306-38. 19- Alfred (1810-60). 262 iaz ezobry. J.. 89. ( 1814-97 ) 30. 74 224.INDEX >aumier. Marc. Dubufe. 275. 35-36. 253 de la Peiia. 73-74. 100 Frangais. 280 Franceschi. 27. 237. 201 Duval-Lecamus. 37. 76. Louis (1748-1825).-L. J. Paul (1797-1856). Ralph Waldo.-N. N. ( 101-2 elacroix. Antoine. 236-37. 260 Durand-Ruel. 175 esgoffe. 31 333 elecluze. 180 . (1802-77). Frangois de. 87. 20. 31. 106. 223. 3-7. 63-71 elaroche. 267-69. E. J. 22-23. the elder. 236 everia. Antoine (1808-88). 21 Duckett. 293 Francin. 45 Flandrin.-L. 9. 160-70. 49. 74 eburau.-J. 121 Flandrin. (1807-72). Martin 227 ( 1752- 1817). (1788-1856). 236. 36. Joseph (1813-75). 64 Ferrari. 79.-H. 268. 314. (1807-52). Paul (1811-1902). 72. 176. Flaxman. 13-14. 128. Jules (1808-92). 365 Honore (1808-79). 14. 297-98 49-50 Frangois iday.. 204. 147- 48 Alexandre-Gabriel ecamps. 329 'avid (d'Angers).-L. 75-76 •avid. 115. 113. 257. 36-37. 202-3.-J. Alexandre-Victor (b. 117. 13-15. 106. Alexandre. 224. 93. 223. 298 Frank-Carre. Emmanuel 1910). 15 Duveau.. 96. Eugene ( 182076). 193. 116. 81 Alexandre ( 1805- 82). 265-66. PI. 325 Feuch^re. Pis. 'rolling. 231. 110. Pis. 96. 95 Dubufe. E. AchiUe (1800-57). Dumas. 70. 24- 25 edreux. 75-78. 93-95. Denis. Giuseppe. Jules (1825-93). 19. Pis.

J. Houdon. Heinrich. 1825). 274 Theodore (17911824). Ernest (1817-1908). 57. 150-53. 53. 6. Auguste (1807-93). Jean (1515-72).-D. 201 Goethe. 110. 12- 13 Hebert. PI. 17980. (1806-74). 49. 187 Hogarth. William (1818- 28 Gerard. 201.. the younger. Jean (1806-94). Frangois ( 17751849). 8-11. 182. (1802-53). 146. 128. 117-18 Guerin. 116 Hildebrandt. 179. WilHam. 37. 44 Grant. 105.-N. 211-12 Guignet. 157. 189 Granet. 101-2.. 121 GeflEroy. Eugenie (exh. 228 Goujon. 13. E. 330 Gavarni (1804-66). Edmond ( 182089). 94. (1804-95). 305 Hook. 245-46. 30.-C. PI. Sir Francis. Eugene (1806-81). 224. 224 Gainsborough. William. 204. 212 Ger6me. 243. 158. (1810-57).-L. Antoine-Jean. 202-3. Gudin.256-59. 1&-19.-L. J. (1770-1837). A. 43 Gigoux. A. Henry. 42. 173-74. 171-72. 52. (1767-1824). 201 Gautier. 21-22. PL 77 Holbein. 288 Hoffmann. (1821-74). Raymond ( 17771858). 225 Giraud. J. Jean-Leon ( 18241904). PI. M. 22. Frangois. 120 Goya y Lucientes. 109 Gleyre. i PRA 284 . 298 Huet. baron (1771-1835). 16263. 144_45. PI. 71. 110 Girardin. Adrien (181&-54). 9192. 105. ARA (1819-1907). 96 Gautier. Jenny le. 41. 1834- 69). 222 INDEX RA (1741- (1810-78). Eduard (181869). Frangois (1787-1865). RA. 147. Gericault. Haffner. 96 Guillou. Thomas. 254-55. 194 Heroult. 82 Heim. PI. 78 Grandville (1803-47). Pis. 176. E. 77. 14 28 Gautier. T. Amand-Desir^ (1825-94).-F. James Clarke. 107 Girodet de Roucy Trioson.-B. 59. P. 82. 12. 310 Guignet. 73 Gayrard. Joseph (1821-80).-A. 182-86. 310 Glaize. 32 H^douin. 254 Haussoullier. 224. Theophile. PI. Hans. 221 J^ Homung. 65. 276-77 Heine. 95-96 Hamon. 202. 299-300 Hebert.366 FuseH. Felix (1818-75). 274. Thomas (1799-1845). 26. Joseph (179227-28 1870). 276 Homer. Emile de. 310 Hood. Emile ( 1828-93 ) 228. 52. 221 Gros. 30. Theodore (1802-80). baron 91).-G. 264-65. 27. Paul (1803-69). baron (17741833). 136. A. 3. 202-3. Francisco Jose de (1746-1828). PI. (1741-1828).-A. 42 Godwin. Pis. 52-53. 247 Gou^zou. 97.

90. 222 Kendall. 10. 299 Kotzebue. 15. Paul de.-J. Leys. (exh. 67. ( 303 Lacenaire. 34. Charles Robert. de (181787). 81-82 Lemaitre. 20. 273.-G. 58. 281. Le Roux. J. 122 Kock. Lenglet. 108. PI. 367 ( 1821- Landelle. August von. 125. 74-75 1813- 55). (1830-96). RA La La Fayette. 247 Kaulbach. 95. Wilhelm von (1805-74). 33 Leleux. 323-24 Godefroy (1805-82). 89. Lavater. 287. 115. Sir Thomas.-G. 1846- PRA La Bruyke. 53-54 PI. Jean de. 310.-D. 199 La Rochefoucauld. 93-95. Edmund. PI. Jacob. 272 Adolphe (1812-91) and Armand (1818P-85). 1801). 129-30 Laemlein. 27 284 Janmot.-A. 93. Henri. J. 163 Fontaine. F. Eugene (1800-90). 274-76. Victor. 174. 308 Leclaire. 24-25 Legros. PRA (1769-1830). Charles-Emile (181394). 19 84. 10. 221 Himt. 283 Lawrence. Charles. 215. Andrew. 262. 186. Gustave (1814-C. jun. 107 Lang. 289. 275 Lehmann. 133. 8.-J. 200 Leshe. Gustave. Sosth^nes de. 329 Jouvenet. 2 Jordaens. 246 Vavasseiu*. C. (1780-1867). 116 Lehmann. Louis (1814-92). 245 Kean. Rudolphe ( 18191905). Alphonse (18371911). 7 69). 34 Leroux. 25. Pierre. PI. 178 Jadin. Jules (1803-54). 70. J. 93. Carl Fredrik (17991876). Eugene 1803-86). 176. 24. 132 Lemud. (1810-67). Frederick. 176-77 Lecurieux. Charles (1814-95). 59.68). 34. Alexandre 71). 23. baron 134 (1815- 128. William Holman (1827-1910). 201. 86-89.-A. 122-23 Leonardo da Vinci. PI. 832. 28. Charles 1908). 317 Hunt. 8. Le Le Sueur. 269 . 95 . 61. Pis. 243-45. E. Jean. 274 Lebrun. 23. 118 Klagmann. William Henry (17901864). 74. 54-56. Eustache. F. Johann Kaspar. 218. 126. 102 Joyant. 207 Lavieille. Jacquemont. Victor. 59-62 ( Isabey. 221 Ingres.. Lord. 26 Leighton. Marquis de. 223. 21. 24 Jacque. 257.-A. Lassale-Bordes. Henri (1814-82).-A. (180585). (1804-86). 311 LepauUe. 221 320 Lami. 213. 228 Karr. Jean de. 70. 22.-J.-B. 222 Kiorboe. 6. Frederick. 174. 165. (1794-1859). (b. 202- Eugene (1820-89). H. 68.INDEX Hugo. Alphonse. 87. 8. 280.

R. 133-34 Malherbe. Louis de 17-18. Overbeck. 221 Maistre. Moliere. Ignacio ( 17991880). Prosper. Joseph de. 28081. Louis (1815- (1815-92). 116-17 Louis-Philippe. 220 Miiller. (1799-1850). PI. 83 Marie Antoinette. 200. 222 Penguilly-rHaridon. A. 108-9 Pascal. 129-30 Planche. 286-88. Gustave. 169. 298 Pilon. Jean. 27. 268. E. Daniel. Mme. 298 Ordener. William Charles. 223. King. 92). 259 Bartolomeo PineUi. 26 Liszt. MiUet. (1789- Dominique 248 J. Blaise. (1806-82). PI. RA (1806- 262-63 Noel. Germain.333. 221 . 47-48 Merimee. Franz. 160-61. 326 Philipon. de (17961849).. 74 Pigalle. 98.. 320 Manzoni. 168. 221 Macready. Charles (1821-68). 298 Maurin. 220 Nanteuil. 176. 79-80 O'Connell. 293. Mme. 163 Ossian.-E. (1798-1872). PI. 159. 120. 824 M^ryon. General. Celeste (exh. 49). 81 23. 310. 177-78 Michelangelo. 186.368 INDEX Montesquieu. 95. 200 Pheidias. 79 Pigal. (1811-70). 60. the Abbe. 201. 229.-B. 180 Months. the Rev. Pis. Mme. Bt. A. 120 Pils. 97 Millais. 80 Perignon. 187-88. 310 Mar^chaL. Celestin (1813-73). Leon (exh. 161-63. C. 26970. 201. E. PI. 260. Joseph (1821-65). 155-56. 251-52 Papety. Monnier. 181591). 86. RSA 109 Maturin.-J.-J. (1814-75). 321 Morel.-F. Charles-Louis Lies. (1814-75). N. 244. Charles (c. J.225. Isidore (1813-75). Pierre de. 3. Nadar (1820-1910). 165 Machiavelli. 18 . 169. Pis. 115. 270-72 Pensotti. 84 Meissonier. Henry (1805-77). ( 1815- 116 Marivaux. PI. 136 Marilhat. Louis (1811-88). 52. 25. 118 70). 271 146. Niccolo. 334 Sir J. ( 17811835). Frederique (1823-85). 95 Perugino. 104 Ovid. Friedrich 1869). 67. 68. 1841-46). (1714-85). (1821-1901). 1 Planet. 54 Ernest ( 1837-57). 170-71. 278 OHva. Sir Noel. Octave 78-79.-J. 173 Matout. 37-38 Mirbel. PRA (1829-96). 139. Paton. 67. Charles-Laurent (1801-87). 180062). 292. 328 Lottier. 106 Perese. (1824-90). Prosper (1811-47). Frangois de. 81. 830-31 Maclise. 22. 26-27. Jules (1815-81). 156. J. 99. 100.

1864). Pierre-Paul (1758- Rouvi^re. 313. 76. 23 Scheffer. Frangois (1784-1855). C. 110 Rousseau. 227 Seneca. 294. 113. P. 65. 230 Poterlet. 160. 213. 229 Rosa. Auguste (1810-79). 307 127. 200 Silvestre. 66. 277 Reynolds. 11. 141 Poe.-G. 277-78. 294 Ricard. 200. 106 Schlesinger. James (1792-1852). 224.-A. 117. (1804-60). Rembrandt. Simon (1808-60). 300 Sainte-Beuve. 259 Raphael. 44. 281-82. 218. Luca. 326. 337 Susse. 121 96 Roberts. 52. 107 Ricourt. Lord.INDEX Plato. 35-36 236 Poussin. 25. 32. Emmanuel. comte de. 325. Philibert. 244. 118-19 Saint-Pierre. Raoul. 16 Scott. 122. 6. 17. 117. 1844-75). 218. Sir Peter Paul. 80 RA (1796- Robespierre. Henri (1798-1862). Nicolas. 208. 59. 107. 120. 36. 35. 117. Jos6 de. Francois. 27. (1818-69). 177 206. 142 Seymour. de. Louis (1808-78). 249. Theodore ( 181267). 87. Eugene. Edgar Allan. Achille. 8. 201.-A. 310 Ribera. 329 Rude. 307 Standish. GiuHo. 93. Bemardin 321 de. F. 45. 85. 3 Stendhal. 105. 67. PhiKppe ( 181687). 107 Schnetz. Sir Walter. 188 Robert. 1888). 191 Shakespeare. 132. 302 Prouha. 320 Riesener. 214 Rubens. Salvator. PI. 32. 221. 267. 256 Seigneurgens. 286 Rochette. 298. J. 6. 90. (1795-1858). 261 . 329-30 308. Tabar. C. Scheffer. (1813-93). 66-67. 70. D.-M. Leopold (17941835). 45. Gustave (1823-73). 310 Signorelli. Jean. (b. 119 Rousseau. 23. 207.-A. 125. 196. 310.-B. 93. PRA (1723-92). Ernest exh. Robert (17981836). Scarron. 320 Rabelais. Paul de. 218. 62. 201. 146 Racine. 111. 310. 5. 28. 276. Jean-Jacques. Ary 104-6. 136-37 Saint-Victor. 218. 42. 77. David. 201. 142. Sir Joshua. 52. 123. PI. 115 ( Segur. 101. 320 Raffet. 274. 247. 1823). 68 Robert. 369 224 199. 120. 77. 218. 111. H. Paul. Th^ophile. Rousseau. 85. 247 Scribe. 266. 240. 323. Victor (1813-88). 35-36 Saint-Jean. 330 Swedenborg. 308. 213-14. 298 Pnid'hon. 1819). 323-24. 56 Preault. 11. Plautus. 180-81. PL 46 Richard-Cavaro. (1787-1870). 224. 43 Romano. 70.-L. 56. 320 Pradier. Pis.-V. Pierre (1804-81). (d.-G.

80. 314. F. 14. 69-72. Marcel-Antoine (1817-56). 54. 74 Van Dyck. PI. 332-33. Horace (1789-1863). 174-75 Troyon. 4 Tasso. 218. 307 Villon. 310 Virmond. 15 Veronese. 265. 248 Tintoretto.-B. 203. PI. 287 Zurbaran. Frangois. 146. 34. 174. Antoine. Carle (1758-1836). 1839-50). 159. 201 . 338 Villa-Amil. Johann Joachim. X. Alphonse (exh. 64. 808 Vidal. 331 Virgil. 72 Trimolet.370 Tassaert. (1812-43). 111. 277 Sir Anthony. 110. 221. Watteau. 8 Tissier. 106. 156 Vemet.-A. 224. 226 Valentin. 59. 90. Victor (exh. Charles-Emile (1800-68). William. 22. 96. 41 Valenciennes. 1841-47). PI. 259. (180673). 237. 81 Vemet. 249. 96 Titian. 49. PI. 7-8. 283. Voltaire. Vigny. 193 Winterhalter. 274 Verdier. 80 159 Villot. 154-55. Velazquez. de. 53. 209. 95 Wordsworth. Adolphe. Torquato. 247 Teytaud. Charles-Joseph (1804-59). INDEX Octave (1800-74). 17577. 281. 277 Travi^s. 21. 51-52. 115. (1814-76). 162. 229. Constant (1810-65). 66^ 217 Winckelmann. 69-70. 103. 262 Watteau (de Lille). L. 70 Wattier. 34. Frangois (1758-1823). 240. 7-8. 262 Weber. 154. Louis-Joseph (1807-54). 123. 208. Fr6deric. Vincent (1811-87). Francisco. 25. 249. Genaro Perez 34 J. Carl Maria von. Pierre-Henri 323-24 (1750-1819). 80. 91-92 Vidal. 87. 6667. 48. 201. Alfred de. 113 Thiers. 226. 98-102.

JAMES B. HENRI The Birth of Civilization in the Near East A8g Peasants and Other Stories My Mother's House & . EDWIN ARTHUR The Metaphysical Foundations of Modem Science A41 CASH. ERNST An Essay on Man A^ The Myth CHEKHOV. M. JOSEPH The Secret Agent A8 couLANGEs. GREENBERG. Henry James A68 FERGUS SON. JACOB The Age of Constantino the Great A65 BURTT. W. FRANCIS The Idea of a Theater A4 FRANKFORT. the Language of Science A6y DIDEROT. TOBIAS Number. Modcm Scicncc and Modern Man Aio CONRAD. G. HENRI An BENTLEY.) The Modcm Theatre I. NOAH. CHESTER Elizabethan Song Book A56 BARZUN. III ^^8fl. FUSTEL DE The Ancient City Ay6 DANTZiG. JOSEPH The Romancc of Tristan and Iseult A2 ALAiN-FOURNiER. JACQUES Tcacher in America ^425 BAUDELAIRE. ANTON COLETTE of the State A52 A66 The Vagabond A62 CONANT. A48b. H. HENRI The Two Sources of Morality and Religion A28 "Laughter" in Comedy A8y BREBNER. w. Travcls in Arabia Deserta A^o DUPEE. WILBUR J. JOHN BARTLETT The Explorers of North America A44 BURCKHARDT.ANCHOR BOOKS The Wanderer A14 ARISTOPHANES Fivc Comcdies A^y AUDEN.. F. A48C From the American Drama A48d BERENSON. DENIS Ramcau's Nephew and Other Works A61 DOUGHTY. II. CHARLES The Mirror of Art A84 BEDiER. KALLMAN. BERNARD Acsthetics and History A^6 BERGSON. The Mind of the South As"/ CAssiRER. ERIC {Ed.

HENRY What Maisic Knew A43 HELOisE and abelard J. ROGER GiDE. SAMUEL The Future of American LEAVis. ALFRED On Native Grounds A6g KEATS.) Loving AlB HADAs. Agi The Waning of the Middle Ages A42 JAMES. FRANasco DE The Disasters of War AAi GREEN. PERRY {Ed. ERNEST Hamlet and Oedipus A31 KAFKA. MOSES {Trcns.) Three Greek Romances A21 A History of Rome A78 HUI23NGA. Transformations Ayy ANDRE Lafcadio's Adventures A'j GOYA. ERwaN Meaning in the Visual Arts A^g . GEORGE "The Uscs of the Comic Spirit" in Comedy A8y The American Puritans: Their Prose and Poetry A80 MURAsAKi. LASKY. D. soREN Fear and Trembling & The Sickness Unto Death A30 KiTTO. Letters JESPERSON. & Selections from Twi- — light in Italy ^59 American Literature A^ Politics Studies in Classic The Great Tradition A40 LUBELL. F. GEORGE A Collection of Essays A2g PANOFSKY. FRANgois Ther^sc Ayg MEREDITH. FREEDRicH The Birth of Tragedy & The GeneMILLER. H. SARAH ORNE The Couutry of the Pointed Firs A26 JONES. OTTO Growth and Structure of the English Lan- guage A46 JEWETT. GILBERT Five Stages of Greek Religion A51 NIETZSCHE. FRANZ Amerika A4g KAziN. Ayi MALTNOwsKi. MELViN J. JOHN Selected Letters ^470 KIERKEGAARD.) alogy of Morals A81 ORTEGA Y GASSET. D. BRONisLAw Magic. R. LADY The Tale of Genji A55 MURRAY. H.FRY.) The Anchor Review Number One Sea and Sardinia A64 LAWRENCE. Scicncc and Religion A23 MAURL\c. HENRY [Ed. josi The Dchumauization of Art Ay2 ORWELL. Greek Tragedy A38 {Ed. H.

Zen Buddhism Ago SYPHER. ERWiN SCOTT. D. T. A22bf A22C TRILLING. HENRI American Social Patterns A86 POWER. BASIL The Seventeenth Century Background Aig WILSON. D. NORBERT The Human Use of Human Beings A34. M. EILEEN RiESMAN. wiLLEY. the French An Approach M. VAN DOREN. c. GIOVANNI The House by the Medlar Tree A^y VIRGIL The Aeneid A20 WADDELL. II. WYLiE Four Stages of Renaissance Style A45 SCHRODINGER. A. Shakespeare Ay4 I. J. GEOFFREY . TAYLOR. DAVID Medieval Cities A82 Medieval People A32 The Loncly Crowd A16 A58 American Humor A12 Character and Opinion Selected Essays from Individualism Reconsider'ed ROURKE. EDMUND Eight Essays Asy To the Finland Station A6 A Literary Chronicle: 1 920-1 950 AS^ WOODWARD.) piRENNE. WILLIAM {Ed. Socratcs Ag The Old Regime and to TocQUEviLLE. E. BERNARD Shaw on Music A§3 SHERRINGTON. MARK Shakespeare An VERGA. CONSTANCE SANTAYANA. G. ARTHUR Three Ways of Thought in Ancient China WIENER. GEORGE States in the United Ay Three Philosophical Poets Aiy What Is Life? ASS The Architecture of Humanism As SHAW. A. AUGUST Six PlayS A54 SUZUKI. G. ALEXIS DE Revolution A60 TRAVERSi. LIONEL The Liberal Imagination A13 TURNER. VANN Reunion and Reaction AS3 YOUNG. Mozart: The Man and His Works A24. SIR CHARLES Man ou His Naturc A13 STENDHAL The Charterhouse of Parma Ai STRINDBERG. w. TREVELYAN. Victorian England: Portrait of an Age ^55 . History of England III A22a.PETERSEN. HELEN The Wandering Scholars A63 WALEY.

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^ J u .-.'^.. ^.The mirror of art.^v .44B338m 3 12b5 035ST t7flM ^- . . afa 709..

. and at the same time one of its major art-critics — "the first aesthetician of his age. Ingres. so that the reader j j i may examine in reproduction most of the works of writes. and Millet — whose works appeared.-diliier. have been selected by Jonathan Mayne from Curiosites Esthetiqiies and VArt Romantique. and the nature caricature. D. 1846 and 1859 and in the in the Salons of 1845. These studies are not only a major work in art criticism and the philosophy of art. Work in this of the essence of laughter. — among them Corot. body in of criticism and The discussion centers around several es- sential questions which prompted life Baudelaire some art: of his profoundest insights into of Romanticism. gathers many of these in a penetrating discussion of the painter themes together between I whose work and Baudelaire's there is a close affinity. the heroism of modern life. I which Baudelaire A DOUBLEDAY K^_l^ ANCHOR BOOK . Exposition Universelle of 1855. The present volume has the unique advantage of a systematic collection of illustrations." His art. color.THE MIRROR OF AR1 Critical Studies By BAUDELAIRE Baudelaire was one of the greatest poets of the nineteenth century. most important writings on lated into English for the many of them trans- time in The Mirror of Art. but they are essential to a full understanding of Baudelaire the poet and the man. first Baudelaire studies in precise detail the '^'"eteenth century artists of mid- Delacroix. "The Life and Eugene Delacroix. Yet these brilliant and poetic essays form a coherent art-theory." which appears complete volume.

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